Living Dreams
by Valkyrie228
Summary: Things are always different in the past.People grow and change. When Daine is thrown into the past, she sees people she knew as they once were. Will Numair save her from his past, or must she save herself? Does she want to be saved? ROTG & DN with a twist
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: Obviously certain things critical to this story are not mine, like Daine and Numair (and of course random things like darkings!),they are all property of TP.**

**IMPORTANT: Hey, I just realized that my chapter 9 took over ch.1 and obliterated it. Sorry about that. Point is, now its fixed! sorry**

* * *

Daine slowly woke up from her nap. Slowly memory slipped back, and she stirred with restlessness. A gentle hand rested on her shoulder and she stilled. As she woke she heard the familiar voice float to her of Queen Thayet. _But that's not possible_ she thought briefly before remembering exactly what circumstances she had gotten herself into. By the time she was fully conscious, Numair was resting against the entrance to the cave that was their temporary residence. His dark eyes were shut, but the lines on his forehead betrayed him. He was not sleeping, only pretending to rest. His black hair fell into his face and cast shadows around his full mouth. He was worried. When he had found her, she was trapped by the giant spider creatures called spidrens as they discussed how best to treat her. The female had wanted to keep her alive and turn her in for the reward that had been promised by the old emperor of Carthak whom had become a stormwing. Ozorne wanted both Numair and Daine alive to take revenge for when they took away his country and changed his form into a monstrous creature. Daine turned her head to look at him. She found it hard not to laugh at his worried antics, but she did not want to disturb him yet. It was nice to watch him. He seemed so distressed and sophisticated at the same time, and just as she shifted her weight to her hands to lift herself up Jelly and Leaf squeaked, "Soup's done!"

Numair's eyes snapped open as he murmured thanks to the darkings. Then he turned his head and saw Daine leaning over his bedroll. Hers had been lost in the river she had fallen into before the spidrens caught her. She managed a small smile and he sighed. He had been so afraid she was dead! _What would I do without her?_ He wondered as her expression darkened. "How in the name of _Shakith_ did you find me?" she demanded.

Her storm-blue eyes flashed as he hesitated. He wanted to tuck the curl that fell across her face back behind her ear. He could almost feel the soft silkiness of her smoky brown curls. The corners of his mouth began to tilt into a warm smile. "I don't understand what's got you smiling, Numair."

He remembered how happy and relieved he was when he had found her. Rage had taken over him and controlled him until all the spidrens were dead. When he had held her… damn it she was so perfect! She had trembled in his arms and he had seen the fire in her eyes when they moved apart, but he was suddenly afraid. He was so much older than her. _She is just a girl-child with so much she needs to learn yet._ He thought again. He had worn this train of thought into the ground and still had not found a way around it. He loved her. That was all he could find, and that was not enough to solve his problems. He knew it, and he knew she would never accept it. She was so wonderfully headstrong that she never accepted anything unless it was on her terms. Even though that was undeniably true, she had no reason to see him as anything more than a friend. She had plenty of swains at home and did not need a grown man chasing her as well. She was so free, young, and naïve; she was the only one with any sense in his world and she would never have him.

"You still haven't answered me, Numair."

"What?"

"What's going on, Numair? Have you even heard a word I said?" she sounded so exasperated that it snapped him out of his personal reverie. "Of course I have!" he responded indignantly. Then he smiled when he saw Daine's raised eyebrow. She giggled and crawled to her feet. It was hard not to laugh with her; just one of her smiles was infectious.

Daine shuffled over to the pot of soup Jelly had proclaimed was finished. As she dipped the ladle into the somewhat watery soup she couldn't help but wonder _What was it in his eyes earlier. I've never seen that look before._ She couldn't stop looking at the dark and lanky mage sitting so close to her. When he had found her, she had looked into his eyes. She had wanted to hold him, reassure him that she was alright. She wanted to tell him everything about how she had been in love with him since the attack at Pirate's Swoop all those years ago, but she was afraid that he would think she was acting like a little girl. It meant everything to her that he talked to her like an equal, like she was as important as the Lioness. If telling him the truth meant jeopardizing his opinion of her, it was not worth it.

She set a bowl on the floor for the darkings and watched fondly as they swarmed over the hot contents. Numair reached out a hand to take the third bowl from her as she sat down. Their fingers barely touched, but it was enough to make both of them recoil in sudden shyness. Daine flushed as she suddenly realized that her clothes were in tatters, but when she looked up it was obvious Numair hadn't even noticed. _He's lost in his own world again._ She thought with a strange urge that she wished she could be there with him. She shook her head to clear out the thoughts. Numair was not hers, and he deserved better.

Slowly and carefully they drank the soup. Numair watched as Daine ate, trying to convince himself that it was because he was worried about her injuries. Unfortunately he was incapable of fooling himself. While he was glancing at her, he noticed her turn to look at him every now and then. He wanted that to mean something but was afraid of what it meant if it did. Slowly he glanced again and caught her eye, "I want to know something right now, Numair, and I want you to tell the truth. You keep looking at me and the way you held me before, what was it? What is it? Because I don't understand, and I want to know!"

Her expression was unreadable which was a new trick she had finally mastered for when she was deathly serious. "Please tell me, Numair. Please."

He set his bowl down slowly before he turned. He was stalling for time and trying to control his initial reactions. _Oh hell, here I go _was his last thought before he turned to face her with the utmost truth on the tip of his tongue.

"Daine, I wa-" was as far as he got before he could feel her breath against his cheek. When he inhaled to begin again, he smelled her unique scent. She smelled like pine, animals, an a little bit of cinnamon. It was a good smell. A smell that he wanted to remember forever. Her long black eyelashes opened and closed only inches away from him. His breath came a little shorter and all he could see were her wonderful blue-grey eyes like fog on a fall afternoon. He wanted to spill his heart to her, but that was insane, wasn't it? He could not remember anymore. He leaned closer and pressed his lips against hers. The fire that spun from their lips wove its way deep inside them. He seemed almost desperate as he pulled her closer. Hips, stomachs, and chests crushed together they both came up for air for barely a moment. Daine was kissing him back, letting the hot sweetness trickle down to the base of her stomach were it collected and burned. Her fingers tangled in his long mane of dark hair and slid under his shirt. At her touch he pulled back, almost like he was surprised. She could still feel his heart slamming against his ribs. That beat still held her body and she knew she was not crazy for falling in love with her teacher.

When she looked into his eyes, she knew she would never forget the exact way they looked right then. His dark brown eyes had hardened into black and were wide and dilated. His hair tumbled into his face and every which direction. Gently she smoothed the wildest of strands back into their proper places. She smiled and begged him with her eyes to tell her everything. He hesitated for a moment wondering if he should stop, do anything to right what had just happened, but he really did not want anything to change. She smiled knowing right when he did that he would not try to stop what was finally happening. She thought silently _all this time we could have been together, and we were afraid to know how we felt. I've loved him for so long. Gods, I don't even know how long! _She wondered what they would do now. It would be suicide to try to leave their shelter to continue today. The heat itself would kill, but the trek back up to the trail and to the dragons was not exactly picking daisies. She was terrified of staying here. She was trembling and could not stop, but she did not really want to stop anyway. It was all too confusing and she told Numair so.

Numair threw his head back and laughed. Gasping for air he ran long fingers through his hair and said, "Daine, I wanted to hold you back there, but what if you never wanted to be with me again. I was afraid you would want to leave because I love you more than a friend should. I-"

"Wait, you what, Numair?"

He cleared his throat and cupped her face in his hands. She could feel him trembling too. She inched closer to him and smiled into his face. He was struggling to say something that he had feared for so long and she could see it in his eyes. Daine turned until she could rest her head against his chest. She whispered, "You're trembling."

He smiled knowing she was changing the subject. She knew him too well. "I'm just tired. It took my entire gift to find you. I had to use a focus, and you know how much power they require."

"You have a focus on me? But, can I see it?" She did not like the idea that someone, even Numair, could have a focus of her. After all, with a focus someone could not only find her no matter where she was, but they could also control her body and mind. Numair moved the arm holding her close to him, and turned his wrist so that she could see it. Suddenly a gold locket appeared. Carefully, he opened it revealing a tiny picture that was perfect in every detail of her face. From her stormy blue eyes to her stubborn chin, the artist had captured Daine perfectly. On the other side of the oval painting was a small, brown curl pinned beneath a gold clip. "It was painted by Volney Rain a few months ago after I cut your curl when you were delirious with Unicorn Fever. I was afraid you would laugh at me if I asked you to sit for a portrait."

"This doesn't look like something a teacher would keep to find a lost student with," she said innocently. Numair gave her a shaky smile, "No, it doesn't."

Daine did not understand immediately, but when she saw how he was looking at her she shivered with sudden understanding, "How long?"

"Well," he sighed, "I realized it about the time the Barrier fell, but thinking about it, I think I have loved you for a very long time."

"I think I've always loved you," she responded in all seriousness.

"But you see, Daine, that is the problem," he muttered as he looked up at the ceiling. He did not want to go into this right now. He hurt, and he was confused. _Why does she have to be so horribly wonderful? I would tell her my soul and she would never realize it. _

"It's too fair confusing to go into all this now. Can't we wait? Can't we just go on as we have until after the war, until things calm down?"

"Yes, my sweet magelet, we can try." That was enough. Everything that they needed to say and express to each other was conveyed in those few words. She knew now exactly how hard he had tried to keep everything a secret, but his emotions had proven too much for him. He was afraid that he would lose her. He was afraid that she would die like she almost had a few moments before, and that he never would have been able to hold her and whisper sweet nothings to her when she needed him. Just him. Daine curled up tighter under his arm before her cuts even began to sting.

She winced slightly and buried her face in his shirt to keep him from seeing. It might have worked, but he could feel her jaw clenching against his chest and looked down at the back of her head. Blood seeped slowly through her shirt on her back and some had even rubbed off on his hands. He drew in a sharp intake of breath and hissed, "You're hurt, and I forgot! You are bleeding."

"Well, sweet, honestly what do you expect? I fell through who knows how many branches and into a river. Then I was stuck in a spidren web and terrified. All in all, Numair, it wasn't a quiet day!"

He sighed and groped for one of his bags. Sarra's healing potions and brews worked amazingly quickly and for that he was grateful. While he turned his back, Daine reached down and began to pull up her shirt hem. Suddenly tight fingers closed gently, but insistently, around her wrist. In a tight voice Numair strained, "Daine! We're not- I mean – you should be clothed!"

"I don't understand what's the matter with you, you dolt. I've a breast band on, and besides this shirt's in tatters just like the rest of me."

He almost whined, "I feel that I am taking – advantage of your innocence. A man of my – years and reputation –"

"'Taking advantage of,'" she repeated with her barely controlled laughter almost hidden. She held it back, not only because he looked so hurt, but because she was afraid it would sound somewhat hysterical. "And _what_ reputation?"

"Daine, you of all people should know I have been involved with the ladies at court." He sounded resigned, almost petulant. She would know everything anyway.

"And what has that to do with the price of peas in Persopolis?" She did not sound amused now. Daine was stressed; she hated it when he mentioned the ladies who had linked their names with his. After all, how much could she mean to him if he wanted to talk about them?

"I love you, Daine; I don't want to hurt you. It would hurt me too." His eyes were dark and soulful. As she stared into them, she thought _I believe him. I think I believe him too much. _That look laid his heart out for her to pick through, but she felt guilty that she had made him believe that it was necessary to convince her with something as powerful as that.

Daine shook her head to chase her thoughts out. _It won't help these cuts heal. Thank the gods for Ma's potions! Otherwise I might have to get stitched up._ She gave Numair one last look that said she was going to do things _her_ way, and she stripped off her shirt. Numair sighed, realizing he lost another battle, and it was definitely not the last one either.

He gently smoothed on the cream, loving the way her skin felt under his fingers. He felt her shiver slightly as he rubbed between her shoulders and down her back. Her breath caught and he smiled. Then it was his turn to skip a breath as she ran one slender finger down his thigh. He had not been expecting that and whispered thickly, "Daine, we should stop."

"You started it," she grumbled and proceeded to take off her breeches.


	2. Poison

**The Poison **

Morning dawned clear and pristine like every previous day in the Realms of the Gods. Daine yawned and snuggled into the warm form at her back. She heard him mumble something indistinct and shift his arm to accommodate her better. She sighed. It was nice not sleeping alone. Her bedroll had seemed impossibly empty without her People friends visiting. She had to admit though, Numair was the preferred company. She smiled remembering the night before. _Numair made such a fuss _she thought. About the time they had finished their supper, the question of sleeping arrangements had come up. With her bedroll gone, Daine would either have to make one of leaves and such vegetation as she could find, or she would sleep in Numair's. He wanted her to take his because he did not want her uncomfortable with her injuries (which were healed thanks to Sarra's magic), but he also knew there was no possible way he could spend the night sleeping on collected grass and leaves. Finally, after much heated debate, they had decided to share it. _Which was definitely the best idea _she smiled. It was nice to just lie beside him and feel his chest rise and fall with each deep and even breath. She could feel the pounding of his heart and relaxed into the same rhythm. Despite the war with Chaos and in Tortall, she was happier than she had been in a very long time.

"Good morning, my magelet," she heard him whisper softly in her ear. His arms tightened around her waist for a moment before he breathed, "It would be best if we left soon before the sun becomes too hot."

"You're right," she said as she tucked a curl behind her ear and stood up.

It did not take long for the two of them to pack and leave. Daine grabbed Numair's hand as they walked out of their shelter. He smiled and felt a weight lift off his heart. The rest of the journey would not be so bad. Before they had walked ten minutes, he could feel Daine falter and begin to move more slowly. She smiled apologetically and continued on. He knew something was wrong, but he shook his head and slowed down to match her pace. He worried silently that they would be caught out in the noon sun if they continued at this pace, but he did not push her. After all, she was probably still shaken up about the spidrens and falling.

Only about five minutes later, Daine's breathing grew short and ragged. Only seconds after that she fell as if in slow motion to the ground releasing Numair's hand and calling faintly, "Numair!"

For a moment, Numair was shocked, but he snapped out of it quickly. He kneeled beside her and lifted her head. Gently he called, "Sweet? Come on, wake up! Do not leave me. We have to get you somewhere safe, and it will be hard if you cannot help me. Daine, Daine!" There was no response.

_Damn! Damn! Damn! She was fine this morning! _He thought in a panic. But she wasn't. She had been trembling slightly and a bit slower than usual while she prepared to leave. She had been so determined not to show it though! _Curse her! Mithros, Mynoss, and Shakith! The girl's pride will be the end of her! If it isn't already. No, no, no, NO! She will be fine!_

He kissed the palm of one hand and picked her up. _If only I was a healer _he thought regretfully. He hurried back to the shelter they had stayed in the night before. It was secluded and safe. Not to mention it was the only suitable place he knew of. As he hurried, it seemed that every bramble and branch reach out to impede his progress. _Nonsense, she's a god's daughter, why would they hinder her care?_ He knew he was inventing impossible ideas to make up for his helplessness, but he could not find the reasoning to care. Sooner than he thought, the grey stone of their cave appeared against the green foliage. He had not even noticed the roaring of the waterfall. He rushed inside and laid her against the entrance until he could set up the bedroll for her. The darkings were to watch her and make sure she did not worsen without him knowing. Carefully he scooped her back up and tucked her beneath the blankets.

He waited a moment, allowing sense to come back. After all, he could not help her if he could not reason. Gently he rested the back of his hand against her forehead. There was not a fever, but she was tensed with pain. With a glance in the general direction of the wood the darkings had set about collecting, he created a roaring fire. Numair set broth over it and held a canteen of water to Daine's lips. He had propped her head against his shoulder and felt it when she tried to raise her head more. "Daine, are you awake?"

"Uunnnnhhh…What happened?" she whispered.

"You fell," was all he could bring himself to say. She could hear the distress in his voice and answered, "I'm fine now."

"No, Daine, you're not. You can barely move, and you certainly cannot support yourself. No, I believe this is only the beginning."

Before long, Daine had slipped into true sleep. Numair sat beside her holding her hand. Absentmindedly he ran his thumb over her knuckles as he thought. There had to be something he could do. None of Sarra's remedies had worked, and he was beginning to believe this was something other than mortal. He was afraid he could not cure it, could not save her. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Sleep well, magelet."

Morning sent gold glittering in a kaleidoscope over the walls of the cave from the water outside. Numair moaned and sat up. He had spent the night on the floor next to Daine, just in case she woke up and needed something. As he ran his fingers through his hair he sighed. Daine had not woken up during the night and he could not decide if that was a good or bad sign. He kissed her cheek and went to make breakfast and more broth. Daine had developed a fever while she slept, and he was determined to bring it back down. That at least he could see and fight.

The sent of a cooking fire reached Daine's nose. The darkness drifted away and she could see Numair's outline against the glow of morning. She was so hot and something was holding her down. She couldn't move she was so tired. "Numair," she croaked through a throat dry and raspy. He was at her side in a moment. "Here, drink this. I've been working on this syrup to lower your fever, but this is the first I have been able to test it. Tell me if it helps,"

She took a hesitant sip and coughed. "It tastes _horrible_, Numair."

"Drink, it should help," he was adamant. He reached out and wrapped his long fingers around hers as her arms began to tremble. She rested completely against his chest as her energy reserves drifted away. He took the cup from her lax grip when it was empty and pressed his lips against her hair. She ran her bright red tongue over her cracked and bleeding lips. She shivered against him, "It's so cold, Numair."

"I'm sorry, sweet. Lie down, you need to rest."

"Don't leave me."

He looked in her eyes. Their stormy blue was glazed and heated with fever. Her eyelids drifted shut, but she fought it. "Don't worry, Daine. I'll be right here."

He curled up behind her and held her close to him. He felt her breathing finally even out until he knew she was asleep again. He kissed her feverish neck and whispered, "I love you."

It had been four days since she had fainted out in the woods. Since then, the stormwing, Rikash, had found them and asked about her. He had seen the ruin her illness was inflicting not only on her, but on Numair as well. His hair was matted and his clothes were quite obviously the same he had worn since she became sick. He had been sleeping on the floor, if he could find sleep. He had seemed almost beyond understanding the knowledge the stormwing had imparted, but Rikash had found a way.

The spidrens' web that had captured her had contained a certain poison in it. It was a venom that was only found in the Divine Realms because it was necessary to catch the animal gods. However, she was not a god, simply god born. There was a chance for her, she only had a small dose so even if her mortal side proved the weaker, then she still had that chance. Rikash had also left herbs and other components for magical aids. He did not want to lose her either. After all, there is only one Wild Mage for men, People, or immortals. No one was willing to lose her.

Another morning dawned in its everlasting cheerfulness. Numair reached out a shaky hand and touched Daine's cheek. She smiled and moved her hand onto his. "I love you," she barely whispered, but he heard.

He smiled, "I know, and I love you. Please hold on, I'm going to make you better. There has to be a cure. I know it."

She pressed her lips against his fingers. "You should – rest."

"No, I need to take care of you. I spent my entire gift working on these potions and syrups. One of them has to help." She looked at his worn and haggard face. He was losing weight she noticed with a corner of her thoughts. _But so am I_ answered another part. "You shouldn't – have. You might – need it – later."

"I will not lose you. I will never forgive myself if I do not use every resource within my power to help you.

You need to sleep again," he said watching her struggle to keep her eyes open. "But you also need to eat. You have not touched anything all day."

"It's only morning, Numair. I – can – eat later. Will you – stay with me – longer?" she asked. He could hear how scared she sounded. After a week of being helpless and in pain, they were both beginning to understand more about what they had gotten into. This disease was burning her form the inside out, and they could not stop it. Every day she worsened, and every night she slept less. Sleep came sporadically if she could find it at all. Her dreams had begun to carry over into her waking moments, and the fever left her burning then freezing with the blankets plastered to her sweating body. Her breathing was ragged, and her lips bled. Nothing Numair did could keep her comfortable for longer than a few moments before she was ravaged by hallucinations or delirium. She was losing weight at a dangerous pace, and she could barely keep broth down. Liquids were all she could manage now. She did not even have the strength to cry anymore.

Numair moved so that her head rested in his lap. He stroked her hair and face. Then he gently began to run cold water over her throat and forehead. As he watched, he could see her forehead relax until she slept. He smiled. Last night had been particularly bad. She had screamed and ranted until her voice did not work, but he could not wake her from the dreams. Now she was sleeping peacefully. He rested his head against the wall. Maybe he could risk some sleep himself. He shut his eyes and almost immediately fell asleep.

Only moments later he felt her whole body jerk. He woke instantly and looked at her face. Beneath her eyelids, her eyes flickered rapidly. It was almost like she was trying to look at hundreds of different images at once. She did not make a single noise, but her breathing became shallower. "Sweet?" he called. He knew there would be no response but he had to try. For some reason, this scared him more than the delirium. He did not know what was happening.


	3. Chaos

**Disclaimer: **These are not my characters and this idea was inspired by Tamora Pierce's wonderful books.

**Chaos**

Uusoae, goddess of chaos and discord, peered through a small opening between the realms. She saw the sleeping girl and could not stop the chuckle that seeped up through her throat. This was almost too easy. Take the girl-child that was one half of the threatening opponent and her chances of conquering everything would widen. It only helped that the man-mage with her would be too distraught to even dare to oppose her. The Divine and mortal realms would be hers at last! After so many thousands of years trying, it all came down to this moment. The girl was caught in the throes of delirium and delusion; it would take very little power for the thrust that would send her into the reality of the hallucinations. Slowly she reached out her hand and touched the girl's life force. There was a strange sting, but she ignored it. Certainly it was only the way the poison interacted with her magic. With a twist of her chaos and deftly moving fingers, she grabbed and threw the child's energy backward, and knew something was wrong.

Numair eased out from under Daine's head. There had been no change for the half hour he had waited and talked to her. Slowly he dropped his head into his hands and grabbed at his hair. He pressed his palms against his eyes and moaned. Why did it seem he could never hold onto the ones he loved? Why was this happening to her? He loved her and she had so much left in life to live for. She could not die, could not leave him, and could not leave without saying goodbye. He shook his head and forcefully wiped the few tears that clung to the end of his dark eyelashes away. The last words he had said to her were a promise that he would save her; that he would give his soul to saving her if that is what it took. He would not go back on his word. Carefully he laid his fingers over her eyelids and whispered, "Rest, my magelet, let me worry about everything."

The sun burned overhead with a soft but insistent intensity. Slowly the girl lying prone in the dirt stirred and shuddered. She sat up and looked into the sky. "The-the sun? Where am I? Numair, what's goin' on? I-" she stopped and felt her stomach drop out. He was not there. Almost instantly her stomach twisted and clenched, and she barely had the strength to lurch to her behind the bushes before she vomited. She struggled to clean herself up, and as she did so she realized exactly how alone she was. This was not the Divine Realms; this was not Tortall. At least it was not anywhere she knew in Tortall. Numair was gone, she was lost, and she was exhausted. Daine bit back a sob and wished she could wake up. Wished she could stop the dreams that haunted her. The hallucinations and the delirium were too much. All she wanted was to go home, to wake up and have Numair holding her hand. Maybe he would be asleep and she could watch the way he breathed. She could remember that perfectly even, deep rhythm and fall into it. Sobs ripped their way from her throat and she shuddered from their force. She could not hold her own against them, and slowly they drove her back to the ground. This was not fair, but this was her life.

Along the road, a young man stopped. From his own alternate universe, he could have sworn he heard someone crying. There, he heard it again. _Thank the gods I'm not _really _losing my mind! _He thought as he began to move on. After all, it was probably just a child who had been scolded by their mother. A few steps along, his conscience gnawed at him. It sounded really distressed. Maybe there was a chance it was serious, and there was no one there to comfort whoever it was. That decided him. He had been through enough lonely nights without anyone to hold him while he cried out all the unfairness. He would not wish that on anyone else. The tall boy walked off the path and into the trees.

As he followed the sound, he noticed it seemed to be losing strength. _Mithros, how long have they been crying? How long did I not notice?_ He pushed on determined to help this person. Suddenly he stumbled over a small stone and fell onto his face. He looked up and saw a girl lying in front of him. She rubbed at her face and lifted an inquisitive eyebrow. It felt like he had been punched in the stomach. She was beautiful, it was the only way he could think of describing her. She was not beautiful in the traditional Carthaki way, but her personality shone from her. While her eyes were red and swollen from crying, the tears only enhanced their brilliant blue-grey. Her chin was strong and stubborn, but her soft mouth said otherwise. Her soft brown curls fell in lazy waves around her stunning face and shoulders. He suddenly realized how foolish he must look. His black hair was starting to become shaggy from its need of a good cutting, and his clothes looked like they should have been washed and ironed a few days ago. His bag of books had fallen open upon his undignified landing and spilled out beside him. "Umm, hello," he began, but before he could go on the stranger interrupted, "Where am I?"

_Odd, she does not know that she is outside the school. _"Outside the University. The courtyard?" he added when she looked confused.

"That's not in Tortall, is it?"

"No it is in Carthak. If you don't mind my asking, where are you from?"

Daine did not know how to answer. If she was in Carthak, then she would be in danger until she could get to Emperor Kaddar. He would help her get back to Tortall or at least contact someone. However, if this stranger was one of the renegades, then he would possibly try to kill her or certainly hold her hostage. Yet, when she looked at him, he seemed so familiar. She wanted to trust him, she felt she could but was still a little cautious so she replied, "I'm from a small town called Snowsdale in Galla. I went to sleep and then I woke up here, in the sun with a headache and the world keeps spinning. I didn't know where I was and I am still alone," it wasn't really a lie. It was just simply not all the truth.

Daine watched as the boy's eyebrows drew into a familiar expression as he said, "I'll help you, you are not alone anymore."

"Numair?" she whispered incredulously as she mentally added years to the face the boy wore. "What-"

"What are you talking about?" he responded with such a dignified air that she would have laughed at how much he looked like Numair if he hadn't appeared so serious. She shook her head and sniffed as she scrubbed at her eyes. That brought his attention back and he sat up carefully checking himself for injury. "Here, I'll help you up," he said while he offered a hand to her. Daine felt the corners of her mouth tilt up as she noticed how lanky and stretched he looked. Very handsome, yes, but he looked more like a stork man than ever. That is, if he was Numair.

"What's your name?" she asked hesitantly. She just had to know if she was crazy.

"Arram Draper, I'm a student at the University. What is yours?"

"Uh-um-uh-" she choked out as she realized, if this was the past, then Numair, or Arram now, could not know about her if he was to meet her years later. "S-S-Sarra Weirynsra," she stumbled.

He smiled warmly at her, "Well, Sarra, it is very nice to make your acquaintance."

Together they walked back to the road. When she stumbled, he grabbed her above the elbow and helped support her until they were on even ground. Then Daine gently pulled away; her pride would not let her be escorted, especially in an area a part of her mind insisted on calling enemy territory. She smiled somewhat apologetically up at him. He had to be six feet, and probably about three inches. _Gods, he's so tall! _She thought almost giddily. They were so close; if she reached up she could touch his cheek. It suddenly became hard for her not to brush the tangle of dark hair out of his eyes.

"Thank you," she whispered and looked away. He was not Numair, not yet. He nodded and did not ask what she was thanking him for.


	4. The Empire

**Disclaimer: **These are Tamora Pierce's characters, not mine. This explains why they appear to have lost all their sanity. (And obviously mine too)

**The Empire**

Arram gently swung open his bedroom door. He had wanted to take her somewhere else, like a room of her own, but there was nothing close. The only other available place he could think of was his quarters. While he thought it somewhat improper she did not even bat an eyelash at his suggestion. He shrugged his shoulders and let her pass.

Daine stepped quickly into the small room. It was dark with a few lamps scattered randomly around the bookshelves that lined the walls. Clothes were piled in a heap by the foot of his bed. The sheets looked like they had been hurriedly thrown to cover the bed, but it had in no way been made. Books and papers littered the floor and ink stains spotted the carpets and the sparse furniture. She smiled slightly. _He does not change too much, does he?_

"Uhm, it's not exactly prepared for guests," he said somewhat contritely. She turned around to assure him that it was fine with her, she had definitely seen worse, but then she caught sight of the handkerchief on the floor by the pillow. On one creamy white corner the letter V was stitched in the palest pink. Her lips pursed and she bent and picked it up. The scent was different, but she had definitely seen one almost exactly like it before in the same man's rooms. It bothered her even though she knew that Numair had slept with Varice, and even thought he loved her, it was much harder to accept when it was currently going on.

He must have caught the expression on her face as she turned around because he took a step backward and flushed dark red when he saw what she had in her hand. He stated after taking a deep breath, "That is my girlfriend's. I did not know that she left it here."

"Apparently not," Daine spat out almost viciously.

He smiled slightly and took the small cloth from her fingers. "Thank you," was his only reply. He was laughing to himself, she looked so upset! For some reason the look she wore made him irrationally happy. He brushed a curl away from his face and smiled down at her. She was so small and wild looking. She was definitely not his usual type, and she even had an air about her that made him want to be afraid of her. However, she seemed honest and straightforward; she had earned his trust even though he could not think of what she had done to make him regard her so highly. She was a confusing girl.

Later Daine leaned against the cool wall and stared blindly at the brilliant red sunset tracing fiery fingers across the tortured sky. She shook her head slowly, almost imperceptibly, but Arram noticed. It was understandable, her being upset; she was so far from home and left in a country completely different from her own. Even the trees and sounds were strange. What he did not understand was that she truly was not distressed by her surroundings, but the continual evidence that she had been sent back in time stunned her. She had gone back eleven years to be exact because Arram had just celebrated his nineteenth birthday. So technically she was still in Snowsdale with Ma and Grandda. Her mother was still alive! These thoughts left her strangely exhausted; her concept on life and the world had suddenly been thrown into chaos. She neglected to take into consideration the fact that she had not eaten in about two days and that she had been bedridden for almost a week. The exhaustion was not completely from forcing world views to change.

Suddenly a knock in a perfectly sequenced pattern crashed upon her tired ears. She recoiled slightly at the sound and Arram touched her shoulder gently as he passed to open the door. "It's a friend of mine. Don't worry."

He swung open the door and faced the shorter, brown haired youth. They stared at each other for a few moments before Arram moved aside enough to permit the stranger to pass. The boy was dressed in rich silks and velvets in soft black and blood red. His eyes burned into hers for a moment as he settled himself in the back of the room. Her skin crawled at his gaze and she even forgot to note the color of his eyes. Without noticing she shrank closer to Arram's solid presence. The stranger raised a regal eyebrow as he scanned her with an appreciative gaze. She did not like the way he looked at her; the way he moved irritated her. Why was he so familiar?

"Arram, I don't have long. You will have to make this quick," he said in an elegant, imperial tone.

"We, Sarra and I," he elaborated with a gesture at Daine and rested his hand on her shoulder, "have a small problem."

"You want me to remove Varice? Honestly, Arram, you have never had the problem with leaving girls before," he almost sneered.

Daine could almost feel the heat radiating from Arram in his embarrassment as he replied, "That is not what I meant, Ozorne!" Here he cleared his throat and proceeded, "Sarra is form Galla, and, well, she found herself here outside the university with no idea how she got there. I think there must have been a great magical working that twisted the space through continuum to form a passageway, a-a-a portal. So a great mage must be behind this; probably a black robe. That narrows the amount of suspects to about, well six. That's where we need your help; you are the only one with the authority to talk, interrogate them. You –"

"I think you're being too smart." At their blank looks she explained, "What I mean is, I think you're missing the simple things. After all, what makes you so certain it was some sort of magic that dropped me here? It could have been some sort of bandit."

Arram stuttered for a brief moment, then smiled slightly. It wasn't so bad, being reprimanded by her. She was so innocent and confused. Then again, she was also smiling at him in a smugly proud way with a look in her eyes that he did not think was innocent at all.

Ozorne watched them for a few moments. Arram had never liked being told that he was thinking to hard. It was a favorite pastime of his. However, he did not seem to mind this girl correcting him. That in itself was astounding; Arram was a free spirit. He would not even listen to Varice and they had been together for about two years. This girl, Sarra, would make a valuable accomplice.

Marginally, Ozorne steered the conversation back around to Arram's theory. He wanted his friend to leave him completely in charge of the situation and therefore not think about it too much more. After all, he was Arram's best and truest friend. During his remaining time away from his throne, he bent to the task of getting to know the girl. He flirted and commanded. He questioned and sympathized until he was satisfied that she was hiding something with her very life. She had a weak spot.

Ozorne left the room with a smile for his friend and an elegant bow for Daine. After the door shut behind his retreating shadow, Arram said as if into the darkness, "He is the Emperor, you know. He was crowned about a year ago. This country hold so much promise with him on the throne. He was always capable and determined. He could think through any situation even as a child diplomatically and calmly. Carthak shall flourish."

"I take it that you two are friends," she replied dryly without turning around.

"Yes, since we started at the University together. He has always been better than me, though. It seems no matter what I do."

He sounded dreamy at the thought of being the one and only Emperor Mage's better. Daine had not known that piece of his history and said before thinking, "Really? I thought you were the more powerful!"

He grinned at her honestly shocked expression and replied, "Thank you! No one has ever thought of me as being that capable." He looked at the ground quickly and slowly raised his head a moment later to say, "It's getting late now, Sarra, and you look exhausted. Let me find you a room of your own."

(AN: Alright, I cannot remember what Ozorne looks like, but that is only my small problem. I know you want Daine/Arram stuff, at least I do, but I can't figure out how to fit it in. I mean he is with Varice (damn her anyway) and I don't want him to end up hurting Daine because he is somewhat of an idiot to still be with a woman who is obviously going to end up senile in her old age. And another thing is, what about Numair? Wouldn't she feel like she's cheating on him? Too many questions!!!!

As you can see, these characters control my life.)


	5. Heartache

(OK I know you don't really want to hear from me anymore, but I am really sorry that it has taken so long in updating. However this chapter became the bane of my existence for the entire winter break. First there was writers block then the characters decided to completely flip out and do things all on their own that I did not want them to do!!! It was incredibly distressing to say the least.

Alright if you don't like this chapter or what I am trying to do tell me, but nicely otherwise I will completely discount it in a fit of pique and credit it to the senders ravings while on a caffeine deprivation. So thank you and read on. )

**Disclaimer: **By now you should know which characters are mine and which are Tamora Pierce's. So mine are mine hers are hers.

Arram rested his head against his door. It was hard and somehow soothing to him. Sarra was right; there was no guarantee that magic had brought her here. Therefore, it would be almost impossible to find the perpetrator. He sighed and traced one darker vein in the wood with a long finger. A slow smile crossed his face as he thought. What good is the Gift if it cannot solve an important question? It should not take much to find a person if there is something to attach the spell to; if he had a focus he could find him. Yes, it would exhaust him that way, but he thought it was worth it. Sarra thought he was strong and smart enough to help her. She had faith in him, maybe it was time he had faith in himself.

Arram slid into his creaking desk chair and lit the lamp in front of him. The soft yellow light spilled over his hands as he scrawled various ideas over several different papers. Time passed almost without him noticing until he was finally satisfied with the product of his efforts and the horizon was touched with soft gold and pink petals of light. It was a variation of the spell that required a focus, but because he did not have anything of the person he had changed it so that all he needed for the spell to work was a thought. After all, there were only three people in all of Carthak that even knew about Sarra – himself, Ozorne, and the kidnapper. The spell was created to look through the person's memories until it found one with Sarra in it. Hopefully he would have enough power left to find the person then, but he would not count on it.

He leaned back in his chair until all his weight was supported by the two back legs. He rubbed the bridge of his nose as he looked over his final spell one last time. Then he ran his fingers through his hair and grimaced at all of the tangles. As he turned his head scanning the room for a comb or brush, he caught sight of the pale light making the dew on the grass sparkle. He sat for a moment trying to discern how much time had passed and shook his head slowly. He stumbled over to his bed and pulled the covers over his head. He had not even bothered to undress; he still had his shoes on. The last coherent thought that flitted through his reasoning was pride in his first useful accomplishment.

As dawn clawed her way through the dark sky, Emperor Ozorne watched as a slave shut the elaborate doors behind his guest. Marlon Salor bowed deeply in front of his emperor and smiled. His soft green eyes blazed through the cloudy shadows of the small study with a delighted excitement. His skin was a dusky gold; his mother was a black woman from a very far south peninsula. Marlon waited for his friend to speak before he told him his good news. As he expected, he did not have long to wait. "Marlon," he drawled, "you seem pleased. Is what you have to tell me as pleasing as finding a possible alliance already in the grasp of Arram Draper?"

"Most assuredly, Ozorne. All the lords along the southern coast have agreed to your requests. The only person capable of standing in the way is Professor Ablejiah."

He watched as Ozorne contemplated his statement. He pressed the tips of his fingers together and shut his eyes for a few moments. Finally his eyes snapped open again, their fire leaping and burning in his eagerness. "Then dispose of the obstacle, Marlon, before it becomes a nuisance," he decided with the hint of a small smile lingering around the corners of his lips.

"Of course. And what about Draper? Are we still waiting to make our move with him, or shall I find someone to finish him along with Ablejiah?"

"No, Draper may still have a purpose for us. He is getting stronger, but he has no idea. No, he poses no immediate threat to us, but we shall watch him. After all, he would be a valuable asset behind the throne if we can break him of the habit of thinking."

"Yes, but what if he does realize what is going on?"

"You do not need to worry about that. As I said before, if we can get the girl, Sarra, to join us she will keep him too busy to notice much of anything."

"She is that pretty, is she?" Marlon leered.

"Do you not have somewhere you need to be, Marlon?" Ozorne asked with a clear dismissal in his voice. Marlon nodded and turned with a gesture at the mute in the corner. He bowed and assured his friend from the doorway, "Do not worry, I already have the perfect person in mind for tonight's job. It shall be done properly." Then he spun out the room in a whirlwind of midnight blue and deepest green.

Numair shuddered out of sleep and leaned over to check on Daine. He brushed a curl away from her face and looked out into the night. He had not slept very long. The embers were still warm, so he probably only rested an hour or two. Like a dark shadow he slipped out into the starlit darkness and plunged his head under the cold stream water.

He gasped as he pulled himself out of the icy emptiness. Water streamed from his hair and face. As his head cleared he rang out his hair and shook himself almost like a dog. His hair slapped his face and stuck to his skin in frozen, black tendrils. He stood up completely straight and breathed deeply of the night air, ripe with the scents of wilderness. After his brief rest and the dip in the cold water, he felt rejuvenated enough to begin work again, but he could not bring himself to walk back inside the cave. How many nights like this had he shared with Daine? Simple nights where they just watched the stars and savored the moment knowing that soon they would be called back to reality and away from the constant peace of the night sky.

He tilted his head back and looked directly into the face of the moon. Once, Daine had told him a tale from her childhood about two lovers. They had married but they could not be completely happy because she knew that her husband was hiding something from her. He forbade her to leave the house at night when he went out and never to touch the wooden chest by the door. One day she looked anyway while he slept and found all the faces of the moon shining from the bottom of the cedar chest. He woke knowing that she had broken her promise, but he was not angry. In fact he had been almost relieved. He was cursed to never tell his secret, he was the moon. She did not want to leave him, even though he offered to let her go home. She wanted to stay and therefore, he gave her the waning nights and he took the waxing phases. Together they shared the full moon and rested on the New Moon. They were together forever, watching over other lovers as they stole through the moonlit paths, searching for each other.

He looked over his shoulder and stared into the yawning black mouth of the cave. He nodded gently to himself, but he could not force himself to move. It was hard to watch her lying prone in the cold and dark where sunlight never completely showed. His hair fell around his eyes and shoulders, and he drew it back into a thick, somewhat wild horsetail. His eyes blazed as an idea struck him; Daine loved being outside with the wild and the People. Unfortunately she was incapable of walking out to it, so he would bring her out himself. If nothing else, the fresh air would be good. He smiled slightly and trotted back to see her. He was like a little boy with a great idea that he could not wait to tell. All he wanted right now was to see her, hold her, and hear her voice.

Daine clutched at the cream colored sheets and crushed her pillow against her face. Her forehead was creased in worry lines and beaded with sweat. Dreams pelted her from every direction; some so realistic she was sure they were real. She twisted and turned on her soft bed. Her every muscle strained against invisible barriers, and she fell again into clouded nightmares undiluted by the softening fog of sleep.

A writhing, continuously moving shape seeped from the ground in front of her. It snarled in barely controlled rage and hissed through what appeared to resemble a mouth, "You shall not continue to escape me, girl. You are nothing. I am everywhere; I am human too. A simple time and location difference will not save you from me. No one disobeys me!" She shrieked. Claw-like arms snatched out at Daine, making her retreat in horrified terror. Revulsion made the bile rise in her throat and the empty black surroundings spin. She reached for safety and found nothingness, emptiness.

Uusoae smiled in a rakish grin. She almost purred, "No matter. After a while, all those spells, charms, and potions your mage man plied you with will wear off. They are a dratted nuisance; perhaps for his interference I shall have him disposed of as well. And if you are here, you are not in there. The war shall rage without you; your master mage will begin a broken despairing man. He shall fall; Tortall shall fall along with all humanity. Even the gods will be powerless before me! What a shame you shall miss it, is it not?" She faded with an assured cackle, and with a wave of her morphing hand, Daine went spiraling into her own borrowed bed once again.

Whimpering, Daine sat up and pulled the thin blankets around her quaking and trembling body. She pressed a weak hand against her hot and sweaty forehead. She stifled a sob; Uusoae was right. The war would not stop and wait for her to return to it. Numair would have to choose either to remain with her in the Divine Realms or leave her there to battle in the last step of the chess game. If he remained, the war was all but lost. Yet, if he returned, he would be distracted and nervous without her there to calm him. He would be terrified for her alone in the Divine Realms unable to care for herself.

Before she knew it, she had leapt from bed and was grasping for clothes. Realizing the Carthaki slaves had only equipped her with Carthaki clothes, she sighed and sat back onto the bed. She had no idea how to properly wear the flamboyant layers and veils Carthaki women wrapped themselves in. She looked out the only window she had in the tiny room. Dawn shone palely between purple clouds, and she decided to do her best with the clothes. No one would likely see her at this time of day anyway. She sighed again and went to shut the window. She had left it open for any friendly nighttime visitors from the People, but none had come. They had probably decided against it when her dreams had started. The bed sheets were twisted and tangled in knots in a testament of her uneasy sleep.

Finally, she was decent enough to step from her room. She slipped out the door and into the shadows. She was determined to walk in the gardens; she needed to clear her thoughts. All she could think of was Numair. The way his eyes softened when he was happy; the way he walked like the world was watching him. She loved the way he lost himself in arcane details no one else could possibly know. She even loved the way he terrified offenders of the crown with his dark eyes flashing and black hair whipping around. He was imposing with his black Gift streaming from his open hands and his entire height stretched until his opponent was forced to strain to see his face. None of it could stop Uusoae. None of it would be enough to save them from the fate that awaited them in the hands of Chaos. He would be nothing against her. There was nothing to save him; no _one_ to save him.

Almost immediately she stopped and spun on her heel. The gardens would leave her to circle these thoughts until they engulfed her. She needed to talk even if it was about something completely unrelated to her own anguish. Arram would listen. After all, if he was anything like his future self he would want to listen. He would want to help. The ground seemed to disappear under her feet. Soon she found herself face to face with his door. She felt pathetically unsure suddenly. What if he was still asleep? After all it was only dawn. Many people slept past sunrise, particularly scholars. They had no need to rise with the sun.

She took a deep breath and knocked on the door. There was no response. Instead of knocking louder or calling to him, she twisted the door knob. She did not want anyone to see or hear her. Inside his rooms, Daine crept close to his bed. She smiled at his lanky figure sprawled across the bed. He looked peaceful, despite the shoes still laced to his feet. She hid a smile behind a hand and called, "Arram – Arram, it's me, Sarra. Wake up, Arram!"

He sprang forward like he had been slapped across the face. Wild eyed and somewhat dazed he peered through his tangle of hair to find the voice that had awoken him. When he saw Daine he relaxed and sighed as he leaned back far enough to make himself more comfortable. "Sarra, what are you doing here? It can't be past dawn." Then he noticed how she was dressed. Even in his sleep deprived fog he had to fight to keep the smile and laugh from leaping from his throat. He had never seen anything quite so funny; she glared at him asking him what was so funny with her eyes and her clothes twisted, backward, or just awkward. Finally he just could not refrain any longer and it slipped out.

After he could breathe again and control himself from his laughing fit he realized Sarra was curled up at the foot of the bed laughing along with him. He shook his head and moved closer to her. "You know this is completely backward," he stated with a hand gesture at the billowy, yet clinging over robe. "Do you mind if I help?" he asked in a strained voice as the laughter threatened to rip free again.

Daine barely managed to shake her head as she swallowed the last of her laughing fit. She knew she needed help, yet as Arram took the cloth in his fingers to readjust and untwist it she was not sure it was a good idea to let him be the one to help with this particular problem. He moved closer to her in order to untie the thin belt that rested low on her hips to hold the emerald green outer robe closed. She wanted to yell at him; demand what he was doing, but she could not make her voice work. His fingers were strong as they undid the bronze dyed leather and held her waist. She looked slowly up into his face. His velvet brown eyes were less velveteen now and more black. They seemed to hold something she had not seen there before, and they burned with an odd flame that reminded her of some of the hunter People. He was closer than before, or she might have been closer to him than before. His hands rested completely on her waist now. She could feel his breath against her cheek and smell the faint citrus scent about him. She shivered slightly; she was falling into those eyes.

They were the same eyes she had seen everyday for years with Numair. Arram was more of Numair than she had originally thought. Thinking of Numair made the pit of her stomach knot and clench. The spell of his eyes was almost immediately broken as she blinked and saw an image of Numair standing weak and defiant in the back of her eyelids. He was drained of magic, she had seen him look that way before, and he was not alone. A man stood before him and raised his arms slowly with a satisfied sneer. He called an inaudible word and red flames wrapped around his broken and drained figure. Numair screamed in agony and despair as the flames burned through his every fiber. She watched as he crumpled lifeless to the ground and his opponent crowed his silent triumph to the skies. Now she was shaking for reasons other than Arram. Thankfully, one of her sandals slipped from her foot and fell with a clatter to the floor. Arram jerked slightly and grinned then bent to pick it up. Daine blushed and looked away from him. She was too confused for this now. Why did he have to be so damned sweet and kind and everything that was so important in Numair! Why did she have to be away from Numair in the first place? She missed him; she did not want him to die. Yet, she feared it was the only possible outcome of the war, and it broke her heart.


	6. Storms

As you read this keep in mind that I am not much of a romance writer and this is my first fic. So read and give me your advice/opinions/criticisms because I personally did not like the way this turned out. Remember though, all reviews should be worded at least at little bit kindly because otherwise I will discredit them as the ravings of a lunatic. Well other than begging for your forgiveness, it took me WAY too long to update and that I am so so so sorry for the delay, I will let you read and (hopefully!) enjoy.

**Disclaimer: **If you are reading this, you should know by now what is mine and what is not. I will leave you to decide on your own. Thank you, I have always wanted to say that.

She smiled and let her hand drop into the water. It was a clear, sharp blue and she liked talking to the turtles and lizards that were basking on the rocks in the center of the little stream. The fish came and nibbled on her fingers making her giggle. Their colors were amazing; some were far greener than the finest emerald and others gleamed with the brilliant fire of polished gold. It was peaceful watching the animals laze about their paradise; the gods knew she needed all the peace she could find. Everything reminded her of Numair, the war, or her friends. Here, in this secluded corner of the University's gardens, she could push all her concerns to the side for a moment until she was prepared to face the world again – particularly Arram. Over the past few days, almost all her stray thoughts drifted to him. Not just stunned ones of the fact that he was Numair at nineteen, but the ones that made her flush and glance away from his smile. Almost as if her thoughts had summoned him, a dark shadow appeared at her back. Arram smiled one of his stunningly charming smiles at her and crouched beside her.

"I always liked to come here too. No one ever disturbs you, and the water and fish are so acceptingly beautiful." He slipped his fingers into the water beside hers, entreating the fish to come to him as well. He turned his head slightly to look at her.

Daine felt the hot flags rise on her cheekbones as she retorted, "No one ever disturbs you here, apparently except for you, Master Draper."

He threw his head back and laughed as she smiled slightly at her triumph. "Now, you most certainly have me there," he replied and paused for a moment to stare into the distance. "Tell me, Sarra, what will you do once we find the person who spirited you here? Will you demand they send you home, or will you possibly, well…stay?" he asked with a deep, thoughtful look creasing his dark brow and clouding his eyes.

She looked down at the swarming fish and all of their brilliance. She had to go home, but she knew he would not find anyone guilty of stealing her. Alas, she could not tell him that or he would want to know how she knew that, and it was only one of the many secrets she could not tell him. When she did not answer, he continued to fill the silence, "You have been here for almost a week now, and you seem to like it well enough. You could introduce yourself to people here and make friends. I would like to show you to my old professor, Lindhall Reed. He would love to meet you; he adores anyone who loves animals as much as himself. I'm sure you would like it here, Sarra."

"Arram, I would love to stay here, but my – my family needs me," she smiled sadly up at him, "I would really like to meet all of your friends; I would like to stay with you."

He smiled a smile that was more wistful than anything else. He coughed once and said with a slightly happier tone, "That is not the real reason I came out here, I just got a bit side-tracked."

"I figured," she sighed with a mock grimace.

He shot her a dark glare before continuing on, "A few days ago, I wrote a spell. It was a slight modification of the focus spell, but I think it has a chance of being productive. I was going to tell you earlier, but it is so powerful that I decided to let my reserves build up until I was prepared instead of getting your hopes up long before I could be of any more service to you."

Daine could almost feel her jaw drop open as he continued to explain the mechanics of the spell. With her small grasp of understanding the Gift, she could truly appreciate the complexity this spell proposed for anyone. Actually, as far as she could tell, the only ones capable of casting a spell like this would have to be the most powerful of the world's mages. She smiled slightly as she remembered Numair sighing in exasperation over his magic. He could not use it for practical things; there was too much in him that it was really only good for the complex spells that required great power and force. It just helped that he had always immediately thought of the hardest way to solve a problem, but at least he completed it with finesse and the utmost grace.

Arram caught sight of her smile and felt the corners of his own mouth tilt upward. He liked making her smile. He finished his long winded explanation, "Well that is about the sum of it. Tonight I think I will actually attempt to try my hand at performing spells that I myself have created." He added with a broader grin that made his whole face light up, "Besides, what use is the Gift if it cannot help those who need it?"

Slowly Arram stood up and dusted off his breeches. He held out a hand to Daine and looked off toward the city again. His brow was creased and his eyes were distant. He mumbled something under his breath that sounded to Daine remarkably like, "As long as no one interferes he should stay happy and sated for a while," but when Daine tugged on his robe he smiled down at her.

"We had better head back before the professors start to wonder where I have disappeared to yet again."

"You disappear often then?" she asked teasing, "Maybe behind the bushes with pretty blondes?"

"Sarra, you wound me! I have been cut to the quick with your razor tongue!" he exclaimed dramatically as he clutched at his heart with his right hand and staggered exaggeratedly before her with his eyes rolling comically. Daine had to bite down on her fist to keep from laughing too loudly. Playfully, she reached out and shoved him in the shoulder; she wasn't expecting him to be so unbalanced that he actually started to fall. Surprise flitted across his face and he reached out automatically for support to catch himself. Unfortunately, Daine was still standing within reaching distance and barely had time to comprehend that he was truly falling before she felt him pull her down with him. With a shocked squeak, she landed on top of Arram's outstretched figure. As she landed he had exhaled with a somewhat painful sound as her elbows connected quite solidly with his ribs. She smiled guiltily into his face with the humor of the whole situation barely concealed behind her eyes.

Daine looked into his eyes. They were so close now, close enough to feel each others' breaths against their cheeks. Gently, she reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair from his face. She was almost painfully aware of his hands resting on her waist and his body pinned beneath hers. She watched as his thick, dark lashes closed over his eyes for a moment as he blinked. Time was stopping; everything was held in his eyes. Slowly she leaned closer and pressed her lips against his. He slipped his hand into her mane of curls and held her there. It was like the earth moved beneath them; fire trailed from their fingers and lips to torment the other. Gently Arram pulled away and kissed her forehead. He ran his fingertips over her lips and cheek as he sighed and relaxed on the ground, "Well, I was not expecting that, Sarra." He smiled at her again.

Daine looked at him concerned. Now what was going to happen? How could she just desert Numair like that, and wasn't Arram still with Varice? What would that make her? She just rested on his chest, waiting for what felt like long moments stretching on like years as she anticipated what he would say next.

"Sarra, what are we going to do now? I must admit, I have wanted to do that for a while now, but what about the rest of the world? You know I am still with Varice; what am I to do? I think, and for once I actually mean it, I will do whatever you ask." His dark eyes were serious and waiting tensed for whatever she demanded from him.

Daine glanced away and began to pluck at the blades of grass by his shoulder. She absolutely refused to meet his gaze as she began, "Arram, I-I-I want to be with you but I can't, I –" Here she tried to leap up and flee from him. She felt split in two between Numair, the one person in the world she loved more than anything and Arram, the younger, but still similar version of him. As she tried to escape the decision suddenly resting on her shoulders, Arram grabbed her wrist and pulled her close to him. Now he was sitting up and staring down at her with confusion and slight anger and hurt in his eyes.

"Do not leave me. Explain everything to me," he growled as he held her firmly in place against him. After that he did not pressure her again. He simply waited. That left enough time for Daine to think quickly and somewhat recklessly. She had never been anywhere or done anything without Numair since she was thirteen. Now she was lost in another time and place and she was completely alone. Did it not make sense then that she should reach for him? So what if he was still Arram, he was still himself. Why could she not be with him?

That decided, she lifted her head from his shoulder and met his gaze again. Dark eyes met blue grey ones shining with decisiveness. She said levelly without looking away, "I still have to leave when the time comes; you know that Arram. But I need you anyway. You don't have to change your life for me, but please, just let me stay with you." On the last word she could not stop her voice from wavering, but she raised her head higher and refused to be embarrassed as her eyes flashed, daring him to question her.

"So you want me to continue with my life as I have been for the past few years and not change anything for you? Forgive me, I am confused. What if I want to alter everything I know to make you happy?"

"Then you will have to do what I told you; you said you would," she smiled wickedly at him. He looked so confused it was so sweet.

He sighed again and rose to his feet releasing her, "Very well, Sarra, if that is how you want it." He turned for a moment and looked behind where his shoulder had been. His eyes narrowed and his brow creased in consternation. "Something's wrong," he whispered more to himself than anything else.

Daine followed his gaze, but could find nothing abnormal. Cautiously she asked her People friends to look ahead to find out what could possibly be wrong that it would bother Arram. She waited quietly as their replies trickled back. They all reported an eerie silence about the University. Two-leggers walked about their daily business in the usual manner, but the building itself seemed to glare down at everything around it. Daine stopped listen to the People after a while when she noticed Arram moving slightly in the direction of the University. She watched him and then he suddenly spun around and grabbed her hand. He mumbled, "Come on," as he dragged her behind him away from their secluded corner of the garden courtyards.

Daine clung to his hand as she asked one of the birds flying overhead if she could ride along for a moment. She wanted to see the direction that they were running and what to expect for herself. As she looked thorough the bird's eyes, she felt Arram literally dragging her along. All that kept her from falling was the fact that Arram was moving in a straight line quickly enough so that she could keep her balance. The bird dipped lower to see the horizon. Tall grey towers of the University stretched to the skies and ended in a sharp point. Arched windows stared solemnly down upon its courtyards. Gargoyles and immortals decorated its hide in stone sending ripples of apprehension down her spine. However, the people from this time probably thought of the immortals as nothing more than legend, old history.

Still, it did not help after she returned to herself and strode with Arram beneath the empty eyes of a hurrok lunging from the smooth stone surface of the wall. She tore her eyes away, refusing to be intimidated by stone. Arram slowed marginally once the University was in sight. Whatever was disturbing him, he noted, was obviously not bothering anyone else. They all went about their business as usual and he shrugged unconcerned. He knew his was the most powerful Gift here, maybe the lack of any skill allowed him to feel what the others could not. Maybe it was just that he was more paranoid than anyone else. Whatever the case, he stopped in the entrance hall and looked around him. He had no idea what to do now. Hesitantly he glanced at Sarra and smiled slightly at her expression. She looked expectant, but not like she was expecting anything other than his asking for her assistance. She gently suggested, more like told, him to go up the stairs on the right. Their marble banisters were gleaming white in the mage lights hanging from the ceiling over it.

"And why should we go up those particular stairs when you have never even been here before?" he asked slightly puzzled, but mostly curious.

"The mice told me," she responded as if this was the most obvious conclusion in the world. She was forgetting for a moment that she had not told him about her magic. She had hinted, but never really said.

"Of course," he sighed as she took the lead now. Impishly she would glance behind to look at him bounding easily up the steps two or three at a time. She kept up a running conversation with the University mice: _What has happened in that room?_

_Man came with gold and black lights. No more man. Left us crumbs. None now. We won't go in there._

_Its all right, friends, we are coming to fix it, I hope._

They left her there. After all, they were standing outside the door that the mice had directed her to. They would not enter it. From what she could understand, a mage came in and now someone is missing or…or…

"Dead!" Arram choked as he saw the man lying face down on the floor in a pool of his own blood. Black stains flecked the room and stuck to his robes. His eyes were wide and staring transfixed by some unknown horror. Blood stained his teeth a rosy pink and his lips shone with an unnatural paleness beneath fiery red blood too fresh for anything but a recent death. He seemed crumpled in upon himself as though some magical hand had clasped him and crushed him until he lay broken and bleeding, dead.

Daine took it all in. She had expected something, just not as horrific as this. A fresh death filled with terror stank horribly and the thick, sickeningly sweet stench clung to every breeze, every fiber of the room. His skin, milky grey and claylike in death, looked tormented and bruised. He had struggled for a few moments before the crushing began. His eyes shone dark brown and dry after his tears had evaporated. It felt like her heart was being torn apart as she looked down at his prostrate body. He looked like he had been in his forties with his masses of black hair gilded elegantly with silver. No man, in her opinion, deserved assassination. None at all.

Arram stood in the doorway quaking with horror. He had not even contemplated this. The murder of a professor seemed ludicrous to him even now as he looked upon it. Professor Abeljiah was dead, swallowed up by his own life blood. He was gone; true Arram had not known him very well, but he had been a close friend of Lindhall's, his old master. The two had been almost inseparable. They had come from Tortall together years ago to teach and learn in the largest and most powerful school of magic in the world. It felt like he could not breathe. Every breath was caught in his throat and he every beat of his heart pounded in his ears. It drowned out thought and feeling. A strange numbness encroached upon him and left him to find reason on his own.

Daine took a step toward the dead professor. She shivered at the callousness of the death. The murderer did not even have the courtesy to close his eyes for the Black God. She reached out and closed them with gentle fingers. She closed his wide jaw and brushed his hair back from his face. She sighed and crouched lower. Around his neck rested a black opal pendant. She slipped it from underneath his body and held it in the palm of her hand. A hairline fracture spilt it to the core and broke the smooth fires that reflected in a red glow from the pooled blood. She clutched it in her hand before placing it beside him again. She had not even realized that she had placed her hand in stagnant blood.

Arram watched as she rose from her position on the ground. He saw her as she turned slowly to look at him with her hand loose at her side. He focused as her eyes shut slowly with her black lashes framing her eyes in a gentle arch. Her fingers hung relaxed against her thigh and Abeljiah's blood blazed on her fingertips. Her eyes were soft and sad, anger burned in their dark center. He realized as he watched her that she was not what she appeared. Yes, she was kind and wise with a certain kind of practicality, but she was no where near as innocent as he presumed. She was wild, untamable. He had never seen a woman with as kind and trustworthy a personality, but her eyes and the way she stood beside the fallen Abeljiah showed her other side. There was more to her than he could ever imagine knowing. Even in all this horror, she was calm. He was afraid of her, worried for her, and curious about her. He wanted to know what it was that let her stand without terror swamping her. He wanted to know why she was unafraid.

"He was a friend of my master's. He and Lindhall were the best of friends. Who could do such a thing? Damn it WHY?" he slammed his fist against the door frame as he spun and looked out into the hall. He glared at nothing and turned back to her with raw anger consuming his face. All his previous fear and shock was dimmed and forgotten in the heat of his anger. Even Daine trembled slightly before it. She could see the reason why he was feared when he was crossed.

"I don't know," she whispered. She picked up a cloth, probably used to clean the glasses he had folded on his desk. Pensively she wiped the blood from her hand and looked back to him. Arram was trembling with anger and took a sharp step toward her. He grabbed her wrists and pressed his lips against the palm of her hand. He held her there for a moment and his eyes burned into hers. He growled with his lips still against her skin, "I don't know who you are. I thought I did, but you are something that I cannot even understand. For some reason, I don't think I ever will." He released her and moved toward the door muttering something about finding Ozorne and telling him about what happened.

Daine watched him. She did not really understand what had inspired him to say what he did, but she knew she would never forget the way he looked and sounded. She picked her way over to him and rested her hand on his arm. He looked over at her and tried to smile for a moment before saying, "I don't know what to do, Sarra. I feel like I am caught in some empty void and no one has ever made it out alive. It is like there is more beneath the surface of all this; like this is only the beginning. There is no where safe when the professor of magical wards can be slain in his own workshop!"

"Then maybe, Arram, everyone needs someone stronger than anything that they have known. Maybe finding my way home is not important as finding you in yourself." She looked tired, expectant; she looked like she was looking at someone else far greater than him. He blinked in confusion for a few moments. Respect shown in her eyes. He did not know what she was, but he knew she knew who he was. He trusted her absolutely.

"Maybe, you are right."

Together they stepped from the occluded workshop. Death was forced to linger there, but life could slip away to dance in the final flames of sun before shadows gripped them. Life could dance and cry before the stone doors of responsibility where iron cold strength was all that was needed. Life had the feather thin chance of freedom and escape before all the shadows came out to play in the cold and frosty gusts of fear leading into the dim twilight of consequence. Freedom and dread hovered in the air tempting them as they walked to take their place beside the Emperor Mage and impart their news that would change their destines for the better or worse. But maybe there was no choice. Maybe responsibility was a curse meant to drag them down into the sea of whirling people with nothing left of honor.

The golden doors of the Throne Room swung open with the ponderous ease of practiced slaves. He watched as the marble floors sparked a blinding white and echoed eerily as the soft soled sandals of the tall man padded toward him. The man stopped and bowed at a respectable distance from the dais and swept his sharp green eyes around the room. Ever cautious the man raised his head slowly to inspect every inch of the room; his black wiry hair fell into his eyes and down his back. After being satisfied that there was no secreted shadowmen in the corners, he smiled slyly at the gold gilded figure on the throne. "Your Highness, the job has been completed to your satisfaction. There is nothing left to incriminate the crown and nothing to stop you from completing your wishes."

"Very good, Marlon. You have pleased me, but tell me, have you heard anything of Draper?"

"No, Your Majesty. He appears to be slipping even further into a brown fog. Not even Reed has had word of him since yesterday. They say though, in the dark corners of the halls that he is working on something; spell of some kind. Some believe he is working for his robe, but no one knows which. Maybe, Your Highness, we should think of eliminating him before he becomes a threat to us."

Hazel eyes flashed in the direction of the brown man before him. Anger apparent at the suggestion that he was not acting in the best suited manner rippled from his eyes and posture. Cold anger dripped in his voice as the emperor responded, "Do not seek to order me, Marlon. Before me, you are nothing. You simply obey my orders because I know what is the best. I have pulled this country to me and I am bringing it to its knees. I alone can read my intentions; therefore you will respect my judgment. You may leave me now."

Carefully Marlon backed away from the enraged emperor. He bowed and acquiescenced, "Very well, my lord." He kept his face blank; not daring to show his anger, frustration, and fear. He was terrified of leaving the temperamental emperor enraged at him. It could very well mean death for him.

As Marlon reached the doors once more, he heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps ringing closer and closer to the Throne Room. He carefully fled through the doors before the sound was obvious to everyone including the emperor. He did not wish to wait and listen as the emperor steadily became more and more irritated with the obnoxious courtiers.

Arram pounded through the elaborate halls decorated and inlaid with golden suns. He did not look to the left or right; he knew that no one would be with the emperor now. Ozorne liked to hold court in the early mornings when the sun was rising on his glory. He glanced at Sarra and flashed a soft smile not really meant to reassure. Then he walked into the gallery of gold, marble, and ivory without even pausing to consider his friend's response.

Ozorne smiled slightly at his friend's angry posture. It was not a smile of amusement, but one of calculating cunning. He heard the outrageous exclamation of Abeljiah's echoing through his memory, 'There is no way that they shall come to you! Time is sacred! It is not meant to be a toy in the hands of any man; not even those of an emperor! All mages of any worth know this. They shall not come to you if I must educate them myself, Your Highness.' He remembered the defiance and determination in the man's eyes as he looked at him. It was a futile anger; no one defied him.

Arram stopped and bowed slightly and stiffly before Ozorne. Anger and something Ozorne was not sure of radiated from Arram in black waves that caught his attention. Concealing his interest in this new behavior, he asked, "What is the matter, Arram? You know that I am preoccupied now."

"Ozorne, listen to me. Something has happened at the University that I thought was impossible. Someone slaughtered Professor Abeljiah. I do not know who, but it is only a matter of time. Please, my friend, allow me to help in the search for the monster that did this. I cannot stay idle while I know that the one place in the world meant to be sacred to learning has been violated!"

"Calm yourself, Draper. There are many men and mages far more trained and capable of finding a murderer than your untrained self. I have already sent them to the site, and by the end of the week I should know exactly what has happened inside those walls. Calm down, Arram, I will not permit anything like this to happen again. Trust me, my friend."

Daine watched the entire exchange silently. She did not like the way the emperor's eyes burned when he looked at Arram or the way that he spoke the word friend. It was as though he was burning with an unnatural hatred for him. She did not trust him. If he had nothing to hide, why would he not permit Arram to help? He certainly had enough power to be of use; therefore, that was not the reason for his refusal.

Arram bowed his head for a moment and ran his fingers through his untamable hair. He sighed and closed his eyes trying to control himself. This was not the reaction he had expected from Ozorne. Surely he was as distressed as himself! Ozorne had been pulling away from him for some time now, but he had been sure that it was the crown that caused him to. He never thought that it was because Ozorne wanted nothing to do with him. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, "Very well. I shall retire then. Thank you for patience, Your Highness."

He turned and beckoned Daine to follow him, but Ozorne was faster. "Ah, Sarra, is it? Please, would you remain? I feel as though I have been unkind toward you in that I have not taken the time to speak with you. If I am to help you in your search for home, I must understand you and your life more. I will take care of her Arram."

It was a clear dismissal for Arram, but he did not want to leave her there alone. She could see it in his eyes as he looked at her. She did not want to stay here. Ozorne was a monster and she hated his eyes. The way they lingered on her was discomforting and disgusting. She begged Arram with her eyes not to let him keep her, but there was nothing he could do. She knew it before she even tried. Well, she would just have to continue with her story of her kidnap then. She would have to be more careful than ever if she was to keep her Wild Magic a secret from Ozorne. She could not imagine what he would do if he knew. She barely suppressed a shudder as he slowly looked over her body and Arram hesitatingly left the room.


	7. Hunted

Alright, I know this is a really short chapter. I did not mean for it to turn out this way, but well it did. Ozorne kind of decided to be a bastard, but o well! Next chapter I will actually accomplish what I meant to do…I hope…

**Disclaimer: **By now you should know what is mine and what isn't. At least I should hope so seeing as you are on this site, reading this story, and have made it this far. If not, well, that is truly amazing – congratulations!

* * *

The brilliant gold of the throne room seemed to dim and turned a dull brown. Daine turned her head slowly and looked away from the golden emperor. His hazel eyes seemed to burn and blacken as he came nearer and nearer. She wanted to look anywhere but at him; anywhere but in his eyes. Her eyes flickered over to the door and flashed quickly back toward the advancing emperor. She felt her chest tighten in apprehension as she took in the furious lilt to his stride. His lips were pressed into thin white lines gilded softly with gold that clashed harshly to his infuriated demeanor. The mage lights in the room added a hollow glow to him; it was a harsh shine that was hurled back into the room as though it screamed of its impatience. Ozorne was displeased. Of what, she could not tell.

Daine felt her eyes being drawn back to his. It was the classic dance between predator and prey, and she was trapped as the hunted. She had no where to run. Caught like a mouse in the eyes of an adder, she remained still as he began to speak, "You have somehow proven to be harder prey to catch than I had ever given you credit for. Many times my men have lurked in the shadows beneath your very own eyes, but you, Sarra, you have never fallen to them. Not once were they capable of speaking to you, of bringing you to me, of finding a way to convince you." He almost purred the last of his small speech. His words dripped of anger at his men and an unquenchable lust. She did not understand. He lusted for power. He had more than she could ever imagine in the hands of any one man, but still he craved more. Trapping her here like this proved his ravenous hunger, his insatiable drive.

"Convince me of what, your Highness?" she forced from her constricted throat. She watched in horror as he reached out and wrapped his soft and slender fingers around her forearm with a strength that rippled through the very air around him. He held her perfectly still as he came closer yet and whispered softly, threateningly, "That you are in danger as long as you linger by Draper's side. He has no qualms about using a lady as one would use a tramp found in the lowest slums of the city. He has no qualms about destroying others for his own benefit. Calm and quiet he appears, does he not? He is a player of the highest sort. One who can watch the horrors he creates and weaves about his victims with a horrified stare as distraught as even the most innocent of bystanders.

"With me, Sarra, you would have no reason to fear. I am more than capable of protecting you and freeing you of his manipulating grasp. Here in the palace you would have nothing to lose that you have not lost already." She stared transfixed up at his face. Open rage played across his features and made her pause for a moment. Was he demented that he truly believed what he said, or was he simply a perfect actor?

"I don't understand," she whispered trying to force the bile to stop rising to her throat. He smiled slightly as she attempted to pull away from his hold and moved closer and trailed one finger from her shoulder down her arm and over her hip. He leaned in closer and whispered just above her ear, "There is only one thing I request you do for me." He did not wait long enough for her pause or the hitch in her breath to turn into a reply. "You must continue to associate with Draper. Hold his heart in the palm of your hand; then, dove, turn it over to me. I will take care of the rest," he growled with an unmistakable sound of pleasure the thought of destroying the man they were conversing of brought to mind. He made no move to move away from her.

The air seemed to grow heavy and stank with his scent. There was no room to breathe; no room to even scream as he pulled her to him. She was crushed against the gold silk of his shirt. His hands constricted around her waist and roamed lower over her body. She shuddered at his touch and tried to pull away, but she could not move. The lights dimmed and her vision swam. Hot anger and fury coiled and knotted in a hard iron fist that simmered and burned in the pit of her stomach. Thorns clawed their way through her throat and sank into her skin. Anger blinded her and drowned fear. There was no one here to save her; she had to save herself.

With one fierce hiss she turned her head and spat in his face. Her face was twisted in a dark mask; hate froze her blue grey eyes. As Ozorne recoiled slightly in disgust, she pulled away from him sharply. Soft brown curls fell around her face framing the fury twisted and emanated there. As he reached out to grab her again, she twisted to the side forcing him to move and chase her if he was desperate enough. She gave him less credit than he deserved. Faster than a raptor snatching its prey, Ozorne's hand found her wrist again. She could feel the white hot pain well in the back of her eyes as he crushed her wrist in his powerful grasp and forced her closer to him again. Almost without thought she wrapped her other hand around his and dug her fingernails into his flesh. Sharp, thin cat's claws tore through his skin as her fingers shifted slightly, imperceptibly to the man pressed against her. He sprang away from her with a wounded, warning snarl and struck her with the bleeding back of his hand. "Bitch," he growled, "do you have no idea of your place before me!"

Daine wiped his blood from her cheek and hissed a low, dangerous warning, "I know my place. I know my choice, my answer. You have no right, and you have no chance."

She tore away from him and hurled herself against the towering, impassive doors and flew from the emperor's chambers. She did not look back; not once did she stop until she stood in the University's garden by the clear, crystalline pond where the fish glittered like gems in the palm of a god.

* * *

Please tell me if you like it at all. I had a really hard time writing it and I feel bad that everyone decided to take a dive off the deep end and divert me from my original plan! Well you understand that they have a mind of their own – even though I try to override it. 


	8. Memory

**Disclaimer: Yeah, not mine**

Umm...constructive reviews are very much appreciated so I can eventually revise everything properly, so thanks!

* * *

It was quiet. Darkness spilled through his thoughts and crashed against his skull. Dawn glimmered and danced on the horizon in her dress of soft pinks and fiery oranges and reached out her long fingers to caress the dark shadowed flesh of the mage's cheekbone. Dark lashes fluttered against swarthy skin and he pressed himself against the hard stone of the cave wall as he slept and dreams faded and blurred into memory. Numair's lips parted slowly as all the feeling and thoughts flooded through him again; stubbornly he tried to put a face to the memory faded with time, but the only one he could find was Daine's. He remembered… 

The ship rocked gently in the harbor, the smell of salt permeated the air. He setting sun burned the back of his head and neck and he reached out a shaking hand to caress her cheek. Time had eroded her features leaving the thin memory of sweetly stubborn smiles and soft curves. He had forgotten her scent, but he knew it was uniquely hers. Her cheek was soft in the palm of his hand. She wore bright clothes and smiled at him with tears in her eyes. He begged, "Please come with me. Please don't leave me with nothing but a memory and a phantom to haunt me knowing I once had you with me. Please."

She smiled one of her enchanting smiles and shook her head, confirming his fears. She clutched his hand and kissed it, and she murmured with her lips still against his skin, "It's so hard, Arram, to say no. I want to stay with you, to promise I will never leave you, but I can't. I have to go; I have to there for my friends. I might save them, I could help. I have to go back."

He drew her into his arms and kissed her. It was soft at first but became more desperate as the despair of losing her sank in completely. Her lips parted slightly permitting him entrance he had not yet asked for. He was holding her to him as close as possible; he could feel her heart pounding against him. Slowly he let her go but she did not move away from him. Her fingers were still tangled in his hair and he sighed. He loved her. With all his heart he loved her. If she asked, he would die for her. He wished she understood. He wished she would stay with him.

Fingers clawed at each others clothes and flesh. Breaths came in short frenzied gasps as they tried to stop time by holding each other. Maybe, if they devoured each other, they would stop the pain. The moment they dreaded would never come, if they held on hard enough. Finally, they broke away long enough to make eye contact. She brushed away a wild lock of black hair and whispered, "I will always love you, but you already know that, don't you.

"I have to go. I have to save myself before I can save you, but I will. I will, if you wait for me. Don't give up on me."

Slowly he moved his hands from the warm flesh of her waist. He ran his thumbs comfortingly, possessively over her skin and down over her hips. The captain called and the boat rocked disconcertingly beneath his feet and he looked at her once more. He murmured against her as he kissed her cheek, eyes, and forehead, "Let it never be said that I held you back from anything or that I kept you from all the others that need you so desperately. I will miss you, but I will look for you. I will not forget you."

He watched and memorized her smile as she slipped from his arms. She turned to navigate her way off the boat. He engraved the image of her retreating back into his memory. He loved her and was losing her. The sunlight caressing her cheek and twining in her hair made her shine like a goddess. Diamond tears threw her eyes into sharp relief and rolled down her face like tiny glaciers rolling down an impenetrable mountain. She had decided, and he respected that. He did not know it then, but he would honor his promise to her. He would wait for her vigilantly, but he would try desperately to fill the whole she left behind. He would never forget her. He would always love her, but he no longer believed in her return. He still remembered her.

* * *

This is meant to be a memory of **Numair's**. Meaning this is occuring at the same time as the rest of the story while Numair is sleeping in the cave in the Divine Realms. This also means that this is foreshadowing of what will come since it is a memory. Extremely sorry if this caused any confusion. 


	9. Truth

**Disclaimer: obviously things are not mine, you know what is.**

Ok, this takes place directly after chapter 7, so it might help to review what has happened from there.

This chapter is dedicated to LornaDoone, who is a really good friend of mine and created the scene with the bear. Thanks, you really help when things get stuck so all my few but faithful fans should be most greatful to you!

next chapter will be for everyone who has reviewed, especially Tei Hune...now on with the show!

* * *

Arram walked slowly up to the glowering girl. Diamond tears gilded her face and dripped slowly to dampen her brilliant blue robes. He watched for one long moment before he laid a tanned hand on her cheek. His dark eyes shone with worry, but she responded before he could ask, "You see me as a person, don't you?"

"Of course. You are a brave and brilliant girl. I would hate for you to change." He did not understand what inspired her question, but he refused to let her see herself as anything but the wonderful creature she was.

"Thank you, but everyone does. Some people more than others." Her eyes unfocused and stared off into the distance. Her lips pursed in thought and he couldn't help but wonder what had happened. What changed her from the confidant person she was a moment ago?

"What happened back there, with Ozorne?" he asked in a low, soft voice. It was so quiet, she almost missed it. It held a command and concern. His dark eyes burned with fear for her; a fear she was not used to seeing in these younger eyes. He was growing so much in just one day; it would have stunned her if she did not know what he would become.

"I don't want to talk about it," she snapped more sharply than she intended to. It was not his fault that the emperor was a sick man. It was not his fault that he was as powerful as he was. Either way, she could not bring herself to face him; not after everything that had already happened. She felt tears sting in the back of her eyes and threaten to overflow. Her ribs contracted over her lungs forcing the hot and angry breath from her lips as she fought for control over herself. The image of those burning eyes flamed in front of her face. It was horrible; she could feel the heat of his breath on her flesh. She shuddered and lost for one moment the thread of restraint she had sewn herself together with. Her shoulders spasmed and dark tears clung to her long lashes before falling after one long, pregnant moment.

"No, don't cry. I was just afraid, you seemed so upset. I was curious; I have no idea what could have happened to leave you like this." Here he wrapped her in a warm embrace. He kissed the top of her head, the only place he could reach. He murmured nonsensical things with his lips still pressed against her soft curls. When her soft sobs became silent, he slowly moved to step back, but she clutched at him with a strangled whine. He was afraid for her. She held onto him so hard that her fingers dug into his flesh like claws; he had no idea that they had performed that very function only moments before. He had no idea what had transpired in their time apart. If he had known, it would have made him furious. No one was to touch her; no one but him. As it was, his possessiveness of her was not yet discovered.

She felt so alone. Cold ran through her veins like a tidal wave rushing to shore. Her heart sang in terror, but she was so alone that no one could hear it. The hot sun beat on her back and burned her, just like his eyes. The golden yellow light pooling around her feet froze over and reflected his face. The madness in his eyes, in his every movement struck her like a whirlwind and threw her to land where only the Black God knew. She trembled like a leaf in the face of a mighty wind, but it was better this way, fighting for one's life and sheer existence rather than face the empty void spiraling down around her feet. That chasm was too much for her to bear; she felt as empty as it was and far, far colder. Without Numair, she was alone. She was left to hurl herself into the black foamy sea to be smashed against the stones by the waves because she was not strong enough to face the world on her own. At least, not a world where the pit of her stomach was heavier than any boulder and the air stank of exotic perfumes and fear. Here, her mind reeled and she felt herself slipping toward the brink of desperation. Here, she could smell the frost coating the burning soil, and what terrified her was that it calmed her beyond anything she could comprehend.

Just as she pulled herself together, she felt more than heard Arram begin to speak again, "Did he say something about getting you home? I know with this murder he will not be free as often to help, but I am more than capable of helping you. You know that." The only reason she did not ignore him was the look in his eyes. They were so warm and dark; they were inviting and comforting, reliable and stable. They admired her and held out an arm of consolation for whatever it was that bothered her. They held love.

"No, no it was nothing to do with that," she looked away for a moment trying to make a split second decision about what exactly to tell him. "He – he wanted something I had to give him, but I was unwilling," she almost spat. Arram saw the ice creeping into her eyes. The grays turned to the color of thunderclouds and the blues to the ravaging rapids that destroyed many sailors and their ships. "What was it that he wanted?" he whispered with a voice as grave as her expression.

"A service I would not give him," she was tempted to leave the issue at that, but a voice growled at her in her head that sounded suspiciously like her mountain pony, Cloud. So, she elaborated, "He wanted me to accept my position as a woman before him. He wanted me to submit to him; he – he wanted to bed me as though I am some cheap whore! I do not submit to anyone, least of all to a monster like him." Her face was dangerously pale, and Arram was sure his was a mirror image of it. It was too much for him to accept. Yes, he knew his friend was more aggressive with women than he was, but he refused to believe that he would try to rape a woman either. Then again, was that saying that he refused to believe Sarra? He trusted her word completely, but then again, he also trusted Ozorne's word inexplicably. Where did that leave him then? He was caught between two opposing forces and he felt torn. He waited a moment, sighed, and ran one large hand over his face. Sarra was distraught, no, she was furious. Her reaction, he was sure, was absolutely genuine. So that was proof that her story was true, was it not? He would go along with it for now, until he could find proof that perhaps she misunderstood. Yes, that is what he would do.

Out of the heavy pervading silence, Sarra whispered, "I know you do not believe me." She kept her eyes averted. Arram felt ice clutch at his heart. This was a girl he loved, but she was completely lost. She shivered and he wrapped his arms around her again. It was astounding how she could swing from fire to ice in moments. He feared for her; it did not seem right that she constantly rock at the brink of so many extremes. He whispered softly, almost as if he was trying to apologize, "He is my best friend. I have known him since the first year of school at the University. I know he is a hard person to understand, much less get along with, but I have a hard time believing that he would ever harm a woman in such a way." He waited and thought for a moment, then sighed, "But you have never given me a reason to distrust you in anyway in the time that I have known you. I do not know what to believe, Sarra."

Daine shut her eyes as if to block out the last words he had said. She swallowed and moved away from him slowly. Her voice trembled almost inaudibly as she began, "I do not believe I have been completely honest with you." She met his eyes filled with confusion; they were a dark whirlwind threatening to swallow her whole. "I have a secret. Well, I have many secrets, but this one is one I can share. It is one you should know." His face was revealing less and less. His eyes slowly moved away; he was shutting himself off from her. He was disappointed. Her throat was thick and constricted. Her words poured out in a waterfall, completely unchecked and unbridled. "I am a mage, but not like you. I have a knack with animals, but it's more than that. I can hear them, speak to them, become them. I have wild magic." Her fists were curled loosely at her sides, and as the last of her frantic words trickled from her lips, she folded them and clutched them to her chest in a small measure of protection and defiance.

A small smile teased at the corner of his mouth, but he ignored it for a moment. He looked at her; wild was her nature. He could see it now, the way she described it was perfect. Brown curls flew around her as if brushed with a raven's wing. Cognitive thought once more returned to him as he looked at the hard set of her jaw. He had never heard of wild magic before.

"I have never read anything about wild magic," he answered with a small amount of trepidation.

Her eyes took on a flash of determination. It was the color of diamonds and sapphires. It was harder than fire, and sharper than ice. It was stubbornness proportional to her countenance. "Need I show you then?" she almost purred. The spark in her eyes warned him to say no, but, alas, arcane curiosity was far more overwhelming.

"Very well, Sarra. What do you intend to do?"

"Don't worry," she smiled devilishly, "you'll see." With that, she stepped back from him and unlaced her sandals. She smiled apologetically at him and said shyly, "Afterward I'm going to need your cloak, so if you could take it off?"

He shrugged and peeled it off of himself to rest with it held limply in his fist. It was wilted like a tree without water. It was a dark pool in the sunlight, and she could see in its shadows. Dark eyes and waxen hands; fear flashing and blood welling; death prevailed. She shook her head to clear it of the images. She did not want to see. Not now.

With a sigh she pulled herself together and touched her fire. The copper curled around her and sang with approval. Exuberance flooded her being. She loved using her magic. The copper fire pooled where needed; it coated her bones and molded them into acceptable positions and sizes. Mass was added to them; her spine was stretched, and her ribs widened. Her feet broadened; her toes and fingers lengthened. Teeth were sharpened, enlarged, and multiplied. Her face stretched into a snout and distinct cranium with her eyes positioned forward in the dark slant of a hunter. Thick fur grew and spread over her body replacing clothes. She would have smiled at Arram's expression if her lips could curl in the recognizable human grin. The transformation was done almost before it could begin. The fire settled into her core once more. She rose slowly onto her haunches and levelly stared down at him.

Arram slowly backed away from the beast in front of him. It towered over him at about eight feet. Its claws gleamed in the sunlight. Sarra was gone and she appeared to now be a bear. She was a very large bear at that. He watched with horrified fascination as she reached out with one massive paw and playfully pushed him to the ground. The hard contact with earth seemed to shake him from his reverie. As he sat and stared up at her, a smile broke out on his face. She lowered herself gracefully to all fours once more and approached him. Once she was close enough, he reached out and tangled his long fingers in the thick, course fur along her neck. With amazement he ran his hands over her sides, head, legs, and spine. All the while, he rambled with excited murmurings like, "Astounding, there is no evidence that the creature is anything but a bear…"

Finally, Daine turned her head and wuffled at him before moved away from his hands. It was not easy to do; she liked his ministrations. His petting was calming and soothing, especially when he would deftly wind his fingers into her undercoat and massage the skin there. Once far enough away from him, she called the fire back to smooth her body back into its human shape. This had once been the hardest part of shifting, but now it took no more effort than the original change.

The fire was calm again and she turned without thinking to see what he had to say. She looked at him and he quickly averted his face, a blush raised a vibrant red flag to his flesh. "Perhaps, Sarra, the cloak?" he stammered. Suddenly, she understood his behavior. All she wore was the heavy, silver badger claw. A flush similar to his own flared over her face as she wrapped his cloak around her. Clutching it tightly with fingers white from the pressure, she called to him with shyness thick in her voice, "Arram, I'm decent now."

His answering smile made her flush all the more. "I saw nothing wrong with the way you were before," he responded with a sultry flame in his dark, dark eyes.

"What, you find eight feet tall and nine hundred pounds attractive?"

"What? Oh, well, no. It is astounding, yes and amazingly interesting, but most certainly not seductive and beguiling." He moved closer. She had the fleeting thought of running away; she even took one hesitant step backward, but his hand on her arm stopped her. Then, she made the greatest mistake of her day. She looked into his eyes. She fell into the twin swirling pools and watched the stars of emotion flicker in them. His pupils were wide, swallowing her whole. She could not move; she refused to move.

Slowly the space between them disappeared and she felt herself pressed against his body. Without breaking eye contact, his hands slid over her slides to rest at her hips. She felt his words vibrate from his chest through her hands pressed against the unyielding surface, "If it's too soon…"

She silenced him with her lips. She reveled in his reaction; he clutched her closer to him. His arm wrapped around the small of her back lifting her off the ground so she had to rise onto her toes to stand. His tongue demanded entrance to her mouth, and she yielded without a moment's hesitation. Light headed and elated with a giddiness like sweet wind blowing through her to fan a fire already flaming, she tangled her fingers in his masses of obsidian hair. They wrapped themselves in each other; they surrounded each other in the comforting glow of the other. Neither wished to move away, but Daine could feel her lungs began to scream for air. Before she could move away, his lips left her to trace from her nose to her eyes and over her ear. She clutched at him, desperate to stay with him. It felt as though he was burning himself into her flesh with every kiss, every touch from the soft pads of his finger tips as they delicately memorized each curve and hollow of her face.

His heart screamed at him to stop. The pain he felt with every touch from her was too much. It was like hundreds of knives burrowing into the part of him he could never heal again; at least not after an injury like this. She was a part of him now. He could not understand it. Never had he felt like this before. It was like walking through fire and diving to the deepest depths of the sea. It was life and death. It was heaven and hell. He could feel her tearing through the fabric of the universe and severing Earth from reality. Her blood pounded and throbbed with a rhythm of its own; it sang without him, but he liked the sound of it, the feel of it. Her skin was soft beneath his fingers. It was warm and compliant against his skin like honey and sunlight. She was perfect. She was wild. She was his, and he would not let her go.

Arram ran his fingers through her brown fall of curls. He smiled into her eyes sapphire dark with heady desire. Her chest rose and fell in a deep, rapid search for breath. Her face flushed faintly as she looked at him, waited for him. He felt himself yearning to taste her again, to crush her to him and never let go. Fingers itching to give into the desire, he did the only thing he could do. He wrapped her up in his arms and swung her around in small, fast circles with his lips barely brushing her ear. "You truly are the one and only Wild Mage," he whispered as she giggled with dizziness.

Quickly, they raced the silvery laugh of the moon to the room Daine occupied while on her extended and unprecedented visit to Carthak. Her feet made no sound as she slipped through the shadows trying her hardest to ignore the shadows that moved. Ignore the shadows that burned with hazel eyes maddened with power and control and shadows that whispered of dark futures and pain, the end of love. There were shadows that wavered on the edge of the world and shaped the broken and dying body of the proud, black robe mage. She danced and shied away from them. Arram clutched at her hand with a smile. He knew nothing of the foreboding cackles in the night or the sinister ripples of light over darkness.

Laughing, the couple slid into the small room. Arram reached for his magic and pulled the smallest thread he could from the black column that stretched through his core and sent it to the candle by the window. Fire sputtered for a heartbeat before shattering the yellow, wax candle. With a sigh, he squeezed Daine to him and muttered, "I know it never works, but I still try. Even little children with the Gift can light a candle."

She chuckled and laid her head against his chest. "Have you ever considered that maybe you're too powerful to light the candle rather than the other way around?"

"What? That's not possible. I have never heard of anything similar to what you are suggesting before."

"Arram, you've never heard of wild magic before, yet it exists. Besides, I know a bit about the Gift. Not just anyone could write a spell like the one you described to me, much less be capable of ever attempting such a feat. That's power, Arram."

"If I had power, I would be able to light a candle without destroying it."

"Fine, then, be stubborn," she sighed with a characteristic tilt of the head and flash in her eye. He couldn't help the retort, "Very well, I will be."

The way her face lit up with laughter made up for the temporary reversal into childhood.

Daine slipped away for a moment to change. She shrugged into the soft breeches and shirt of Numair's she had been wearing when Arram had found her. She had taken to wearing his shirt to bed to let his scent wash over her and drown out the shadows. Arram brushed up the crumbled wax with a few deft movements of his hand and two leaves of paper. He was rather skilled at this procedure by now.

She stood in the doorway by the bed. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders and framed her face. A small tilt to her mouth gave her a roguish air as she rested her head against the wall and crossed her arms before her. Arram leaned against the small table in the corner and watched her. He would do nothing tonight no matter how much he wanted to hold her. It did not matter how much he wanted to touch her, kiss her, press her to his heart. She deserved so much more. So he simply smiled at her and tilted his head so his hair fell into his eyes. "I have studies tomorrow. Will you be alright on your own?"

"I am more than capable of taking care of myself, thank you."

"I was just wondering," he pleaded raising his hands to the level of his eyes. "I may not see you tomorrow," he added with a slightly morose tone.

"Than I will come to you before you turn out your lights." She was smiling at him now. She moved to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Without thinking, he wrapped his own about her waist. She kissed his cheek and nuzzled his neck with her nose. "Now I'm comfortable."

"Well, stop. I can't think when you do that."

"You think too much anyway," she retorted with a saucy lilt, but she stopped. "I'll see you tomorrow; I promise," she added with a more serious tone and a chaste kiss.

"Then I can ask for nothing more," he replied and kissed her with slightly more fire. "Sleep well, my Wild Mage," he smiled as he left her room.

Daine waited to move into bed until the last waves of heat slowed and her thoughts no longer screamed to follow him.

Arram walked down the shadowed hallway to his own set of rooms. As he rounded the last turn, he saw a familiar gold apparition. She rested against his door and smiled and seductive smile. Once he was within range, she reached out with one porcelain hand and laughed a laugh better suited to an angel. Her figure was one a goddess would envy, but Arram could only think of another's. He smiled to her and listened to the golden ripple of her voice as she purred, "Arram, I have reason to believe you have been avoiding me lately. It is time you ask for forgiveness."

"Of course I haven't been avoiding you, Varice. There were simply matters I have needed to attend to."

"You could have at least looked for me to say so, love. Ah, well, it does not matter so long as you have not decided to run off and elope with a complete stranger."

He chuckled, opened his door, and led her in by the hand. "I would never run off with a complete stranger, love."

* * *

Alright, I know I'm am horrible. Its summer so hopefully you won't have to wait too long for my erratic updates to see what happens next! 


	10. Strangers

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of TP's original characters. **

Hey, I'm back! Anything in italics is a flashback. umm, if your interested from now on, I will be using African names and animals and such as Carthaki creatures and things because my creativeness with new names is gone. I have a cite on my profile that can show the pictures of the birds, otherwise it really isn't that important.

**This chapter is for all my reviewers.**Thanks so much!I'm sorry I don't usually reply to any in particular, but my computer is like, laptop from hell and only lets me open one internet page at a time and email must have everything shut off before it can function at all. However, sometimes (if I can remember) I write a new A/N at the chapter someone had a question on.

**

* * *

**

Daine yawned and stretched in the soft golden light filtering in through her open window. It ran and flowed like water around her head and rested in the hollows of her flesh and the bedclothes. She smiled when she felt the warm body heat of a cat curled languidly over her stomach. Three birds, a Baglafecht Weaver and two Lilac-breasted Rollers, were perched over her head. Their vibrant colors made her smile; they sang sweetly when she brushed their minds with her magic. She relaxed as they spoke of the day and with the soothing sensation of fingers roving over her scalp. A Vervet monkey played absently with her hair. Its small black face broke into a grin upon seeing her awake. Its excited chatter about her family group kept Daine smiling and busy for many minutes. The mouse-catcher crept away with a haughty twitch of her tail; this talk bored her was her dismissive purr as she slid between the small crack in the door and disappeared into the halls. The monkey chirped and bounced excitedly on the bed for a few minutes before Daine could calm her enough to understand what she was saying. She was going to go home. Her male was calling for her. In a grey flash, she leapt to the windowsill and waved one, black hand before leaping into a neighboring tree. Reality slowly seeped into the corners of her mind, and she sighed as she forced herself to rise from the tender embrace of her bed. The floor was harshly unforgiving to her feet as she shuffled to her folds of Carthaki clothes. Gently and as patiently as possible, she managed to clothe herself decently. Arram would be busy today. This was the perfect opportunity for her to look for her way home. Something inside her recoiled, leaving a heavy, metallic taste on the tip of her tongue. She had to return home. Didn't she? 

Without a moment's more thought, she spun out of her room in a hazy swirl of sky blue and blood red. She clung to the wall for a moment and searched for movement, life around the corner. Nothing stirred. A small mouse called its greetings and ran over one of her sandaled feet. She smiled and moved into the openness of the hall. Light spilled around her and rode on her shoulders. It crowned her with a feral grace. Here, she was queen for a moment; for one fleeting heartbeat, she was a goddess and all looked to her with love and reverence. She felt frighteningly alone.

Daine took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Tilting her chin defiantly, she followed the calls and pulls of People life. Their copper threads led her to them with amazing speed. She stood just outside a tall, mahogany door. The red veins in the wood seemed to throb with life, with secrets. She rested one hand against the sun-warmed wood and pressed it outward. With a moan, the heavy door swung open with ponderous speed to reveal the emerald lawns glistening in the morning light. Tiny drops of liquid fire studded the grass already aflame with a vibrant passion she could see. A snake hawk sang to her from a nearby tree of the sun and the air, the fire and tumult of sailing over endless seas of green and brown. It was an ocean of life, and Daine longed to join her wing-brother in his flight. She longed to fly away and leave her heart tied behind.

With a strange tenderness, Daine crossed the courtyard and stepped beneath the lingering eyes of the stone gargoyles into the glowering gaze of the gleaming monolith. Clenching her fists, she walked through the doorway arched with exquisite detail. She stepped into the large entranceway and without hesitation headed for the stairs. These stairs she traveled so determinedly led to the foreboding shadow of Professor Abeljiah's end. She continued on. At the end of the staircase, there was a long hallway. It seemed to lead to the end of light and shadow; she could not see the end. With only a moment's more hesitation than before, she moved on. Curiosity and interest tugged her by her heartstrings until she gave in to the compulsion; she had to see what was at the end of the corridor. Her pace quickened and her heartbeat flew, but she danced between the light and dark to step in the pools of golden sunshine. Finally, she stood outside a door. It was thick and grey. There was no hope, no feeling caught up inside its fibers. It was dead.

Gently, Daine raised her hand and knocked. The resounding echo sounded hollow to her ears, and she scowled. Something was wrong. She could hear the scuffle and clatter of movement inside; it sounded flustered and frustrated. It was a sound that screamed louder than a command to go away, but Daine waited. Finally, the door creaked open seemingly of its own accord. By the window, Daine could see the silhouette of a man. He was tall, a trait she had grown to know well, but not too tall. He was dark and brown, in skin and hair. He stood with an air of sadness, of distress. He was despairing; she could see it in his eyes when he turned to look at her. They were dark abysses deeper than any ravine she had ever seen. They were at once soft and iron. They were not innocent like Arram's. They were not calculating like Ozorne's. They were not forgiving and weary like Numair's. They held a hollowness she had never seen before. There was not a flicker of flame in their depths.

With a sigh, the man turned to her and addressed her, "Who are you? Not one of my students, surely? I would have remembered you, I believe." His voice was so deep that it reverberated between her ribs and rocked against her heart. It held weariness so sharp that it ached in her bones. This was a man tired of the world.

"No, sir, I'm new around here. I just though that – I thought," she trailed off, not knowing how to explain. She had felt People. One, a cat, had called her, begged her to come here. She saw no cat, but she felt it and heard it.

"Sit," he gestured at a chair rickety and old from misuse. It was covered in papers and odd items, things she could not imagine a use for. Slowly, he lowered himself behind his desk. He was not an old man. No, he was far from it. His hair clung to his head in wiry tendrils and accented a stubborn nose. Wide cheekbones spoke of wisdom and patience, a placidity also illustrated in his gentle movements. "Asha was expecting someone today. Perhaps it is you she was seeking?"

Daine looked at him with shock and confusion. Testing his theory, she called Asha along the line between her and the cat she had followed. Help him she whispered back, worry flashing through her mind like a silver lance. I'll try was all she could promise. After all, she did not know what was wrong. "Yes, I think I am."

A soft smile threatened the corners of the dark man's mouth. "Then I shall leave you alone?"

"No, sir," Daine smiled, "I don't think that's necessary. She's even gone so far as to disappear."

Foolish two-legger was the arrogant purr as a beautiful tawny feline leapt onto the desk before her master. Her face and points darkened into a rippling black and her body was built for the hunt. Speed and skill were apparent in her every muscle and line of her body. She moved bonelessly, even more so than the average cat. Her eyes shone a smoldering gold that danced with a humor Daine could feel radiating from her taunt and protective body. She loved her master.

"Cats are always wiser than us humans give them credit for. Even humans such as us," the dark man stated with a softer edge to his voice.

His words startled Daine. She looked at him more closely with wide eyes. Copper fire ran its way through his veins. It was soft, more like a glow than fire, but it was most definitely there. "Yes," she replied slowly, "but always they find a way to speak to us, and they are most always right in whatever they tell us."

"And that is why you are here, is it not? Asha has told you something she would, or could, not tell to me."

"Perhaps."

* * *

Arram rolled slowly into the warm sunlight. He smiled slightly in his sleep and wallowed a moment longer in the warmth before stretching much like a cat. He possessively curled himself around the warm body beside him. He slowly propped himself up on one arm and looked down at his companion. She was a vision, even in the morning. She had one hand curled innocently around the soft sheets, and her long, gold hair streamed down her back and over the pillow like a heavenly cloud. Long, dark lashes brushed her pale cheeks lightly, softly like butterflies' wings. He brushed one long lock of hair away from her neck before gently nuzzling her awake with his nose and lips against the corner between her shoulder and throat. 

"Love, that tickles," she protested with a voice thick with sleep as she tried to move away, bury herself in sheets and pillows. He laughed a deep throated laugh at her efforts and easily extricated her from her hastily erected shelter.

"We have to get ready; it's almost time to go," he coaxed gently. "We have to leave soon if you want to go to your rooms before classes to change your clothes. These are all wrinkled from sleep."

"I don't want to go to lessons today. Could we, just for once, skip them? I hardly ever get to see you as it is."

"No, love, classes are important. You can do so much with yourself; classes can help you get there. You could get your robe; I know you have the talent and the power. You just have to focus and work at it a little harder."

"You don't understand, Arram, I don't want my robe. I don't need it to do what I love. Complicated magic is not for me, Arram. That is what you do best, not me."

"It will come in time, love. All you have to do is practice more."

"I don't want to practice more, Arram! I like what I have now. There is nothing more I need for my Gift. It is not that important to me. I just want to make things beautiful. Illusions are not that difficult, love."

"Varice,-"

"We should go."

xXx

_The thick darkness swirled around their heads as they slipped into the silence of the bedroom. Carefully, effortlessly Varice made a gentle gesture and the soft, warm glow of candlelight spilled into the shadowed heart of the room. She smiled up into Arram's face dark with emotion. Which ones, she could not tell completely. It did not seem to matter how long she had been with him, he would always remain so complicated. He was unsure of himself; he was proud of everyone else. He lived through the success of loved ones. He would not let her show him his own greatness. She never stopped trying. _

_Gently, he turned her face to him. Shadows rested on her every chiseled contour. She was so beautiful, and he loved her. He knew he did. So why was he suddenly trying to prove it to himself? Why was he suddenly clutching her to him with such desperation? _

_Softly, he wrapped his arms around her waist and let one head weave itself into her silken hair with strands of spun gold. He pulled her close to himself; he could feel her body heat radiating through her and ensnaring his senses. Her long, noble fingers traced patterns of fire over his flesh and down his arms. She watched as his eyes became darker than the night surrounding them and smiled. He pressed his lips to hers with a question at first which she quickly answered. He became more forceful. Together they swirled in a movement almost a dance of fire and wind. Their lips sought every sensitive spot on the other they had memorized. Slowly they eased into the mattress of his bed as they fell. They only awareness they had was of the other; her fingers weaving ribbons of fire rapidly cooling to ice before she revived them again along the long expanse of his back and over his chest; his wide hands pressing her down as teeth and lips traced her throat she bared submissively to him. _

_"Arram, wait. Arram," she protested and pressed her long, thin hands against his chest. She smiled into his eyes clouded and confused. Somewhere along the line, his shirt had disappeared. She had no remembrance of removing it; it did not matter, she decided. Her eyes were a volcanic blue; they swallowed him whole and he surrendered to their cerulean depths. He clawed himself back to reality holding onto them. _

_"Have you ever heard of anything called wild magic?" he asked before the thought was even complete in his head. Sarra's eyes were the blue of a summer storm, not the blue of a frozen sapphire like Varice's. His words sounded strange even to his own ears. _

_"No, love," she offered him. "Where did you learn of it?"_

_"Today," he sighed. "I heard someone speak of it from the gardens."_

_Varice smiled, she knew how much he loved the solitude of the gardens. She could always find him there if he had a problem, something he had to think through. "Will you tell me about it?" she inquired. She just wanted to hear him speak. She had missed him these past few days, and she was glad he had brought something up. She did not want the few moments she had with him before sleep pulled them into her seductive hold to be filled with hurried touches and fleeting promises. _

_"I do not know much. Only that one possessing such a power can communicate with animals, can become one."_

_"They can talk to beasts? Cannot the Banjiku tribes do something similar?"_

_"Indeed, they can," he said slowly, thoughtfully. She sighed and ran one slender finger down his chest as she moved into the comfortable circle of his arms. He was slipping away now. Arcane thoughts were infiltrating their time now. She only had a few moments before he forgot her again completely. "Perhaps," he muttered with a slight question in his tone. _

_"Perhaps what, love?"_

_He looked down at her face shining serenely in the candlelight as though he had not known she was there, "Nothing, I just thought that I would like to speak to one of them then. Maybe they could tell me more."_

_"It is a good idea, love. People have wondered what makes the Banjiku so unique. Wouldn't it be wonderful if you could discover their peculiarities?"_

_"Yes, love. That would be astounding," he spoke softly as though running the idea through his head. The look she could see in his eyes spoke of determination to solve a problem. She would not see him for a while. She knew him; when he found some new, arcane material, he was likely to fall in love with it and forget reality until he found something new to spark his interest. He was a brilliant man, but she often wondered if he was enough for her. Would he always love her like she needed, or would she be second place to his experiments and researching? Her last thoughts before the soft wing of sleep swept her away echoed a fear of loss, a hollowness and dread of what was to come. _

_

* * *

_

So, what did you think? Tell me in a review! Its really not that hard...

Oh, yeah, I can't remember what Varice looks like except for the pretty and blonde. So, for my purposes she is blonde, blue-eyed, and her family will be from Scanra even if they now live in Carthak where she was born. Yeah, that's about it.


	11. Hope

**Disclaimer: You know what is mine and what is not.**

Well, this is my worst chapter ever. I hate it. With a profound ardency I did not know I had. However, I felt I should post it if not to recieve helpful comments, at least so that I can fall back into the story again.

After two weeks visting relations, I have kind of forgotten where I was going with this chapter. After all, I never write things down. Stupid, stupid me! Maybe by the time I return form yet another visit to relations for another week I will remember what I was and am doing. I am so sorry!

Oh yeah, _italics_ are mind speech. Enjoy!

* * *

The brown man reclined in his chair. It groaned and protested his movements like a tree under the winter gales of the blackest, darkest night. Daine looked into his eyes empty of hope and waited for him to continue. When he did not and the silence began to scream with the tension of ten thousand secrets, she leaned forward and moved to speak. "I do not even know your name," she sighed without breaking eye contact.

"Nor I yours, but that is not what you wished to hear from me."

"My Ma always said manners and politeness are far more important than any curiosity you can feel."

"Her sentiments are very wise then. I am Akuji Chiamaka, Professor of History and Legends. I teach of the gods and ancient ones long since past, and often I wonder how it was that they could see what it is we cannot. Perhaps, stranger, you have come to us to shed some light on the matter?"

"I don't think so, Professor; I've never been too good with philosophy and such things," she grinned, "I would much rather be outside with the horses and other People. "I'm Sarra Weirynsra; my professor finds my knack with animals slightly annoying at times."

Professor Akuji smiled almost wistfully before asking, "Your professor, where is he now?" The sadness in his eyes swirled like a hurricane. It was hypnotic.

"I do not know. We were separated several days back," thinking of Numair and his odd eccentricities brought bitter tears to her lashes. She blinked them away; she refused to show weakness now when before she had not cracked with sorrow. Not yet. She refused to admit she feared never seeing his smile again. No, that was not true. She would have Arram if she could never leave. No, that was not possible either. He would leave soon, and he would take no one with him. She would be doomed to linger here, in the decaying halls where glory once dwelled on an island once filled with hope and joy. She would be alone.

"You miss him," Professor Akuji stated. It was not a question; she did not answer.

When the silence became too loud to bear once more, Daine filled it, "Anyone would miss Numair if they were separated for too long." Somehow, speaking his name made the pain in her chest double so that it felt as though her heart was shattering. Perhaps it was; perhaps when she looked, there would be hundreds of tiny blood red glass shards tattering her skin and running in a scarlet ribbon over her hands.

"You love him," there was no inflection in his voice.

"Yes," she responded after a pause pregnant with uncertainty and fear. She did not want to tell a stranger of her heart. She did not want to hear the words herself. She did not want to remember how she had whispered those words to him and how she had loved him with more of her heart than she knew she possessed. She did not want to weep as she did once the admittance passed her lips straight from her heart.

He waited until her tears stopped. He was slightly stunned at her revelation, but he was amazed at the way she collected herself once more. Only moments after uttering the words she herself dreaded to know, she was once more sitting in front of him with a slightly less composed appearance, but proud nevertheless. No emotion crossed his face, but he felt almost and unnaturally indebted to her. Therefore, when he leaned forward to tell her his tale that only one other had ever heard in its entirety, he was not surprised, "I have a long tale to tell to you, one that you will most likely find no interest in. However, I feel that I must tell someone, and you know the meaning of secrets and pain. I can read it in your eyes; hear it in your voice.

"My mother was a slave to a wealthy nobleman when she met my father. She had traveled to the palace as a personal slave to her master's wife, and she attended the many banquets and balls her lady appeared at. Of course my mother always lingered in the shadows, but so did he. My father was one of the Banjiku performers; he was a cat-man, and my mother fell in love with him. At the time, the Banjiku tribesmen were free people; they no longer have that right, that privilege as my lord Emperor describes it. Because of his freedom, he bought my mother from her lord after months of saving and extra labor. He loved her as much as she worshipped him. They lived together in happiness for many years until they both died of Black Fever almost eight years ago.

"You have said that you are not a Carthaki native. That is a very important fact because the Banjiku tribes are native only to Carthak. They have a unique power. No one can understand it, except the Banjiku of course. They say this gift of theirs is sent from the gods. I for one believe it truly is; however, it has been under intense debate since before I can even remember. The more powerful of mages began to fear them because they could not understand. No matter how much they studied and theorized, they could not explain the fierce bond between a Banjiku man and his animal. The people with a connection to the larger, fiercer creatures were the first to be ostracized. The cat-people, dog-people, and other such people as the crocodile-people were banned from using their power. It was a foolish law made in haste without a thought placed into it. There was not a way for the people to tune out their friends; it is like severing a limb from your own flesh. I know you understand what I am describing. The people could do nothing; they were trapped between their own nature and the law.

"The emperor was not so sympathetic. He had them incarcerated and restricted; he made slaves of them. Before long, all the tribesmen were given the brand of slave, even those who were only part-blooded. After all, they still had the foreign gift. Now, all my people are enslaved and forced to dance and perform for the emperor's delight. The nobility has brainwashed them, convinced them that they were always slaves and will always be as such. They have told them that their gods have willed it such. There is no more basic a brutality."

Here Professor Akuji sighed and rested his forehead against his dark, steepled fingers. His eyes were pressed tightly shut while he tried to gather himself to begin again. Pain was etched into thin lines that marred his otherwise handsome face. Midnight black eyes snapped open and he continued in his deep, reverberating voice, "You are wondering how it is then that I am not one of the hundreds, thousands of lives the emperor holds tightly in his hands. I can see it in your eyes. No one but you knows about my Banjiku inheritance. You see, I also have the Gift. It placed me in the University a long time ago, and I have never left. Yes, everyone knows I have an overwhelming love for cats and they seem to reciprocate, but I have always been one of them. I will always be another of the dark skinned professors desperate to feed their families in the encroaching gloom. While I stay here, I can do nothing. I did nothing and continue to do so as I let my people rot in their iron collars!"

Daine felt the weight of his voice crash through her. His eyes sparked for a moment with self-hate and desperation. She watched him. His breathing was heavy and he buried his face in his hands. Asha purred and leapt to his lap to rub his face and twine herself in his arms. The comfort she wrapped around the tired professor calmed him and he threaded his long fingers into her tawny fur. "There is much more to my story I am afraid. However, I do not believe it is necessary for you to know much more as of now. Perhaps later when I discover what Asha has in store for me, I will tell it to you."

There was no laughter on his face. His eyes once more were blank and empty. His voice was even and toneless. She wished, for a moment, she knew more of what had caught at his heart and was slowly ripping it to pieces. Long moments rested between them. It seemed that with every breath she slid away from him. She could feel it; he did not want her here, with him. Despite the tension in the air, she felt that she could trust him. Gently, Daine turned to Asha. _Yes_, purred the golden cat, _he will not tell a soul. He is a good man. Lonely, but good._ A cat's word was worth its weight in gold and Daine knew it. She sighed and leaned forward. This was her time now. She could not be a little girl frightened of strangers. She had to be the strong woman she had been trained to be by the most powerful people in Tortall. "There is something I want to tell you now, Professor. You have told me a secret of yours, and I feel I can tell you mine. You already know that I possess the same wild magic as you, except mine connects me to every living animal. Ever since I ended up here I have been hiding that bit of fact. But, I am not from Galla as I said.

"I was born in Galla, but I fled from there about four years ago to Tortall. There, a mage, Numair Salmalin discovered me. He has taught me everything I know about my magic and almost everything else. We fell in love, but war is no place for that. I know it, but what else could I do? What if he died? What if I died and he never knew? Anyway, we were lost in the Realms of the Gods when I became sick. We were told by stormwings that I was poisoned by the spidren's web I was caught in. Apparently they had to use a special poison to catch animal gods. I'm starting to think that one of Numair's attempts to cure me sent me here, or maybe it killed me. Either way, I'm here now, eleven years in his past."

Professor Akuji stared at the girl before him. Her storm colored eyes burned with a feverish light as she spoke. Had she just told him that she was a goddess? She was in the Realms of the Gods, a place no mortal had set foot in for hundreds maybe thousands of years. What was more; she was affected by a poison structured to bring down gods, at least minor gods. Her eyes never left his face. He watched her soft lips form her words and her throat move as she set them free. Slowly, her words seeped into his skin like rain into dry earth. She was trapped eleven years in her love's past. That meant he was here. A man who understood their magic, wild magic she had called it. Suddenly a fierce admiration for the girl in front of him swelled in his chest. She told him her most guarded of secrets and she was still strong. She had been here a while already; her skin was darkening into a sun-kissed gold and her hair was threaded with strands of gold fire.

His hope purred and stretched on his lap. _Do you see? I have brought you hope, a reason to fight. She will not let you go to the Black God without a reason. She is People too and knows you cannot give up. There is no such option. _

_Yes_, he replied to the aloof Asha, _I still have loose ends to resolve. _His hands caressed her skin in a rhythmic pattern as he continued to think. No, Hell was still near calling his name, but first this girl needed him. Before ice smothered him, he needed to set his people free. He still had a small remnant of Hope, and she purred and slept on his lap and spilled her heart before him. Lovely Hope, lovely Asha.

* * *

Don't worry, I will fix the second half of this chapter!

This was a little boring, yes, but its meant to help introduce the new character, sorry! Again!

Review and tell me what you liked and didn't. Questions? I've got answers! Review and I will do my best to impart upon you my knowledge, feeble as it is!


	12. Questioning

**Disclaimer: I hate this! For the rest of this (however long that is) consider this story disclaimed!**

I'm back! Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! Especially **HyperKathryne**! That has to be one of the nicest reviews I have ever recieved!

Umm, I hope this is not too confusing. I jumped perspective a lot, but this time I have remembered to separate them. Hopefully this will help. Oh and if any of the information I have is wrong I am dreadfully sorry and could you please tell me in a review. I lent out my copy of _Emperor Mage_ and now distinctfully regret it.

On with the show! (And I hope you enjoy it!)

* * *

**F****ROM**** the Desert I come to thee  
On a stallion shod with fire;  
And the winds are left behind  
In the speed of my desire.  
Under thy window I stand,  
And the midnight hears my cry:  
I love thee, I love but thee,  
With a love that shall not die **

** Bayard Taylor - "Bedouin Song"**

* * *

Slowly, the dark shape began to writhe and twist in the cool morning air. The long, lean back stretched and glistened in the pale light streaming through the cave entrance. He shuddered. His body was aching and protesting his every movement. He had been dreaming, and he knew that. Why then was his heart aching as though he had left it long ago in an environment far too cold for it to survive? Numair snorted slightly and ran one hand over the dark beginnings of a beard. Of course, he thought to himself, when the heart is frozen, there is no heart at all. He looked over at the still body on the bedroll beside him. He closed his eyes for one long moment. In the gloom behind his eyelids, he could pretend that he did not ache as much as he knew he was. Here in the darkness of his mind, he could cower and hide from the razor edge of the sunlight he wished would never come again. Quiet crept stealthily through his body as he denied that everything was anything more than a particularly gruesome nightmare yet again.

A bark of laughter tore itself from his throat. It was a sound eerily devoid of humor, of life. There was nothing in it; it rang against the stone walls in an echo of the nothingness left in the dark mage sitting stone still in the pearly dawn. His heart was far more than frozen. Daily, it was thawed so that it could break one more time before he turned away to surrender again and again. Numair released a heavy sigh burdened with all the pain of the already premature morning. This day was promising to be worse than the last. Only yesterday he thought he could feel no worse. After all, it was his third failed attempt to revive his love, the only true light in his life. He had only just found the flame he had been searching for so blindly instead of all the mage lights shining pitifully in the darkness where he had rested momentarily. He had sustained himself on nothing only to find her and need her to breathe. Numair slid his hands behind his head and leaned against the wall beside Daine's head. "Maybe I should give up love and hope for the fates to save you," he breathed in a ragged whisper. If she could hear his voice, if anyone could, they would hear the sound of a man decaying and crumbling from the inside out. Not only was he weary and drained of power and energy, he was also emotionally sapped and mentally strained. He was not eating properly, his ribs had begun to protrude and press against his flesh in a grotesque monument to his determination.

Every moment he could think clearly without his thoughts becoming clouded and scattered, he was formulating plans and theories as to how and why Daine was not responding to him. Could his magic truly do so little? He ran one large hand over her wild hair damp with sweat. The fever had not completely left her. The veins in his hand seemed to throb and strain unnaturally against his flesh. It looked as though his skin had become thin paper stretched unmercifully between bones weak and heavy. Yesterday, he had realized what this meant. He was beginning to die with her. He was fading away into a wraith of shadow and pain bound by desperation. He had noticed, and he had cared. If he disappeared, who would care for Daine? Who would hold her hand and pray to any gods that would listen for the strength to save her? He was no healer, but he was all she had. Right in this moment, when the world seemed to have stopped its incessant spinning, he was all _he_ had. The thought terrified him. Unconsciously, he clutched her hand and threaded his fingers through her pale and lifeless ones. Her ragged and uneven breathing was all that convinced him she still lived. He was taking better care of himself now. Last night he had eaten dinner and prepared breakfast for the next morning as if to remind himself of his new pledge to Daine. He would remain for her. He would remain as her hope.

That last decision had stirred something within him. It was like a serpent rising from its winter slumber as he slipped back into his dream from the other night. It had been his last moment with Sarra. He had sailed away and watched her become smaller and smaller in the distance until she was no more than a grain of sand; one dark shape among thousands of others. Sarra had believed in hope. She had clung to it with both of her hands and refused to let it be taken from her. Remembered love throbbed sourly in his chest as he perused his other memories of her. Hope. That was the predominant feeling he remembered radiating from her body as she shown more brightly than a morning star. He had been taught that hope was everything. The moment it vanished, so to did life. Hope was the thin thread that held his marrow to his bones and kept his flesh from ripping away from his body to be exposed to the brutality of life. Hope was the first and last; without it, there was nothing. He looked somberly down at the still form beside him. Yes, he still hoped she would wake. He still had faith that she could, and would when it was possible for her. He still had hope; he still had her. The glassy black stone of his eyes softened slightly in the golden morning. She was still breathing, and she was his everything. He still had everything and the hope that he could use it.

* * *

Arram paced angrily outside the classroom door. Only minutes ago he had emerged from the shadowy depths of the library. Class had been dismissed a while ago and the thought of Varice still plagued him. How could she not wish to become the glorious light he knew she could be? Her denial pained him; he could not understand her. Every day she seemed to fade a little more into a golden shadow that danced on the very edge of his vision. She was eluding him like nothing he had ever known. 

Finally, the pacing man stopped moving. His dark gaze spun out of focus as he thought. He was recalling Varice's words from the night before. The Banjiku could help him understand Sarra, and that was the best news he had heard in a long time. Unbidden, her image swam into his mind. Her eyes sparkled like light on coldest of rivers and changed in her obstinate determination into storm clouds piling ever higher in their attempt to rip the earth to shreds. She was a wild thing, something that could not be tamed. A ghost of a smile flickered over his thoughtful face. He had no wish to.

Without a conscious decision, Arram spun on his heel and sped to the open doors of the University. His feet knew where his mind was planning for him to go, but his heart was still lost in the torment of his understanding. He knew nothing was all that his heart dared to chant at him. Beware it warned as, once more, the wild and hypnotic vision of Sarra swirled into his thoughts. She was not afraid of her power. She wanted to use it and do something with her life. Varice wanted only to cast illusions and enchantments. She wanted to ensnare the senses and seduce the mind into her spider's web of lies and deceit. She was wonderful and good he knew, but she was lost herself, trapped within a world of shadows that were not really there. He did not know what to do. He was fighting so hard to care, but his own desperation for hope and freedom were pulling at him.

The warm sunlight sank into his flesh like the gentle touch of a long lost lover. Its fingers wrapped about him and pierced his heart with their fiery tendrils. Faith was no friend to him, and so, he despaired. Varice was clinging to him; he loved her, but he did not know how to any longer. He was beginning to change. He could feel the awaking stirs of it within the deepest recesses of his heart. Still, she caressed his heartstrings with a deft and adoring hand, but she too was changing. How much longer could they bear each other's metamorphic pains? He had not the faith to answer.

The ground was hard and unyielding beneath his feet. The sun had long ago dried it into a smooth river of dust forever waiting for the chance to drink in the falling rain so to flow away. He felt tired. Logic had pieced all he knew together and was now threatening to leave him. He was so tired. Finally, the menagerie gates stood before him, proud in their wrought gold and silver intricacies. With a determined glance behind him, Arram stepped through the splendor guarding the Empire's beautiful and rare creatures. Nothing was waiting for him; he had taken his first step to his future, and he had not feared.

* * *

Varice stood in the gentle sunlight flashing around her. She smiled a smile worthy of a goddess however frozen she may be in the silver white marble encasing her. Varice brushed her golden hair behind her shoulders and turned slowly. Something was nagging at her heart. There was something she could hear whispering to her in her mind, but she could not understand it. The constant hum and hiss of it was driving her insane, but she needed to hear it. It felt as though it was the most important sound she had ever felt before. Finally, she gave up on hearing the gentle whisper that seemed to caress her ear from the lips of an unknown friend. She shook off the feeling and wrapped it gently in exquisite satin to rest in the corners of her mind where she never dared to look. There the feeling would wait and collect dust until the fated day when she would release it from its disintegrating folds. It would be patient. After all, the foreboding and apprehension had no need to leave her, and the unease of wary love would never fade or rust.

* * *

A small man darted into the shadows as Arram approached. His face was dark with tattoos changing his features from human to monkey. Dark hair spilled over his forehead beaded with sweat and into his eyes dark and large. "Wait! I only wish to talk with you," protested Arram as the Banjiku monkey-man began to slip farther away from him. 

"No one wishes to talk with the Banjiku," stated the weathered man in a voice more of a chuckle than anything else. "No one that is, except for our masters who even then despise us." The small man's eyes hardened at the thought, but he murmured as an after thought, "But it is our fate. Our gods know what is best for us, even if it is enslavement."

Arram cocked his head to the side for a moment. Never before had a slave dared to speak so to him. He took in the man's appearance. Dirt seemed to be a common theme to his clothes tattered and worn from hard work with his animals. More grey than black littered his hair and his face seemed to be sinking in the sea of wrinkles. However old this man appeared, he still stood with a ramrod straight back and his tattooed hands were steady. The small, black monkey resting on his shoulder seemed just as alert as his master's bright black eyes. "I wish to talk to you of your relationship with your monkeys. I am Arram Draper. I will not take too much of your time."

Perhaps it was the pleading look in Arram's eyes. Maybe it was just that the man was tired and eager for a youngling to listen to his tales. Either way, the small man beckoned Arram into a small, shady copse that was invisible to the untrained eye. "I am Diallo. This is Fabunni," he said directly as he gently stroked the monkey perched easily on his shoulder.

Arram nodded gravely. He had completely surrendered to his mounting curiosity. His eyes were wide and over bright as they memorized each movement of Diallo's mouth. "Please, I have a friend, she is very dear to me and she spoke to me of your people. I wish to know everything I can, and you can help me understand the magic another of my friends contains. She called it wild magic." After a long moment he added, "But that is only a fable, is it not?"

Diallo smiled broadly. His eyes crinkled and disappeared in the many folds of his weather worn flesh, and his teeth gleamed brightly even in the relative darkness. "Then why do the Banjiku speak to their animals and understand their words back to us?"

"I-I do not know, sir."

Diallo beamed even wider if that was possible at the title, "We have wild magic of course!" he cackled happily. "It was a gift to us from Kidunka, the Second-Born of Mother Flame and Father Universe. Its price was this slavery to your emperor, but it is a price I willingly pay. Without Fabunni and the rest, I would be a broken man."

Arram ignored for the moment the explanation Diallo gave for his enslavement. "Can you only converse with monkeys like Fabunni?" the eagerness in his voice was contagious.

"All types of monkeys and apes, young master. All types."

"But only those? You cannot communicate with, say, a lion, sir?"

"No, no. My daughter is a cat-girl. She can talk with them, but not I."

"When you talk to them, do you hear words, sir?"

Diallo paused for a moment, his face twisted with thought. "No, not normal words. I hear them here," he paused to tap his temple, "not here," he finished by tapping his left ear. "I understand what Fabunni and the others say as words and sentences, but I have begun to think that they are more thoughts than anything else. I should ask Fabunni though," he completed thoughtfully.

"Does he understand what I say?" Arram asked in surprise.

"Of course!" he laughed. "Animals are not stupid! How else do you think they have survived so long?" Concentration flashed through his obsidian eyes for a moment, "He says though that your words are harder to understand and hard to hear. He says they hurt his ears more than mine."

"Fabunni said?" Incredulity washed over Arram's face and remained there. He was astounded by all that he was discovering. If this is what Sarra could do and feel, he would give everything to know every detail. He decided in that moment that he would ask Sarra to teach him. He knew he held no talent for this, but he wanted to understand it. This was yet another arcane mystery waiting to be discovered, and he was more than willing to do so.

* * *

Daine stepped hurriedly into the orange glow of sunset. She had not seen Arram all day. However, she had spent hours with Professor Akuji. The man was a mystery she could not describe. The pain and sadness in him rivaled a winter storm and overwhelmed the massive waves that wreaked destruction on the unsuspecting coastal towns and fiefs. His hope was fading; she could see it in the lines around his lips and eyes. Fine grey strands curled at his temples. Asha had told her as much as well. The dark skinned man was waiting for death. No, he was praying for it. Despite everything he had told her, she doubted him. Every word he had spoken to her she believed to be true, but how could all of that be enough to cause this gradual wasting away? His heart was festering and she believed it to be from a wound inflicted long ago when he was still innocent and new with life. What she did not know was the story of his love and how she had died so many years ago. 


	13. Murder

Alright, I am posting this earlier than I planned. Want to know why this is earlier? OK. I have recieved **2** reviews for the last chapter. **2! **Not that I am complaining, but I have about 1,000 hits and I only got 2 reviews? So here is the deal - **I will not update until I have at least 5 reviews! **Honestly, that is not a lot. I mean I could request compensation for the lack of enthusiasim over the last chapter, but I am trying to make this easy.

Thank you **krazeeMe **and **Rosepetals Turn To DoubleEdged Swords** for being my reviewers! This is your chapter!

* * *

"**_Love hurts, I thought crazily. Love hurts._**

'**_But I knew that,' I said through blood and tears, still kneeling, hunched with the pain, clinging to my burning bridal flowers. 'You didn't have to tell me that.'"_**

**Winter Rose _Patricia A. McKillip_**

* * *

The night was cold. With every breath she could see the tiny crystals of ice fall from her softly parted lips and foam between their faces like the final white spray of the waves that crashed eternally on the sandy coasts. Love blossomed in her heart so that she seemed to swell and feared that before much longer she would break through the very seams of her being. She smiled at the thought. What nonsense could the mind create when it was so caught in the moment? After all, this moment was perfect. Nothing could make her unhappy as long as her love was left to hold her, warm her. It was wound about and through her very soul, her essence. She loved and was loved in return. Suddenly, every pore of the moon's inconstant face was worth speculation and memorization. The tender touch of the wind against her shivering and trembling flesh was the touch of a long lost friend. Everything was slowing beneath her gaze. Life had meaning and was bursting to accomplish it. Every barren branch was hope incarnate as it waited patiently for green leaves to erupt in a wild cacophony from its wrinkled and grey flesh. Everything held a life so innocent and pure she felt that she could spend eternity reveling in it and still find some new wonder. She never wanted to forget this moment. She was so satisfied and content. Never had life been so perfect.

The gentle touch of Akuji's palm against her arm was enough to send shivers of delight down her spine. She loved him so much. She would never leave him. He leaned closer to her until his body was in complete contact with hers. Slowly and tenderly, he wrapped his arms around her as though to keep her safe and near him forever. Her distinct scent of lilies and orange blossoms wafted through the air and engulfed him. He was lost to her forever, and he did not think twice about it. He was hers. He had offered her his heart in hands worn, dirty, and calloused. Despite all his imperfections, she had accepted it with her own delicate hands soft and white. He buried his face in her dark red masses of hair as though the memory was far too sweet for him to contain.

Ayoka Seoras was an unusual woman. Her family hailed from the Copper Isles though she herself was born in Carthak. She was raised with a Carthaki name and did not regret it. After all, it had given her Akuji, the love of her life. For him, she would pluck all the stars from the sky and weave them into a crown noble enough for his head. He was her sun and moon, night and day, and he worshipped her. She was his Earth and sky, and he would die for her, if she but asked. Her pale, alabaster skin fairly glowed in the softness of the moon. The elegance of her throat was hypnotizing and the light in her eyes the color of the jungles at dawn was intoxicating. As well bred and softly raised as she was Ayoka loved nothing more than running free through the jungle with her hair loose and flying wildly behind her. That was how she discovered her wonderful love, the young Professor Chiamaka.

His soft voice deep and magical caressed her ear as he whispered gently, "Perhaps we should return. You seem cold. I would not want you ill."

She leaned her head against his chest and responded with a smile resonating throughout her velveteen voice, "Even if it meant keeping me in bed for days on end?" She loved the way his skin already the color of the dark river soil could flush at her merest of suggestions. The gods knew they done far worse together than simply tempt one another. Still, she loved his innocence.

His full lips brushed the very edge of her ear as he purred back, "And why would I want a wheezing lover when I could have a laughing one?"

The resulting smack reverberated in the winter silence even through the muffling cloth protecting his shoulder from her indignant wrath. Her face was so red and flushed it appeared that the wind had rubbed it raw, and her eyes sparkled suspiciously. Finally, her deep throated laugh rand through the crystalline, chilled air. That laugh began in the depths of her stomach and pulsed outward until it erupted from her throat with a force that made it necessary for her to tilt her head heavenward. Her every emotion was constantly on display. Her every fear and joy, sorrow and delight was flashed upon her face not made for high society's dignity. Akuji loved her every perfection, and her every imperfection. Her failures were a source of curiosity, not rejection. He loved her ever changing ways. He loved her.

In the distance, a soft light began to shine against the horizon. It was like one flame, one tiny candle against the encroaching darkness. At the moment, it appeared like the last remnant of hope and salvation studded into a sky strewn with misery unparalleled. He loved it in that moment; it was a mark of his love for Ayoka because she had saved him from that insufferable blankness. He memorized the moment so that he would never forget, and he never would. It would rest so ingrained in his thoughts and mind that every waking moment would taste its flavor that should have been long forgotten. Even in sleep it would constantly flicker like a tiny candle's flame spluttering in the wind. He would never forget the warm softness of Ayoka curled in his arms as gentle and loving as he could ever have imagined. He memorized the low purr of her complacent breathing as silent and rippling as any cats'. Her hair was silky and smooth like satin against his fingertips. The night turned sightless eyes away from their loving embrace. He could never forget this moment saturated with an elation he had never before experienced. After all, every moment spent in Ayoka's company was new and unexpected.

Before his very eyes, the tiny light battered by the empty night began to spread. Amazement was his first emotion until he smelled the smoke. It burned his lungs like acid and ripped at his eyes as though it were a live thing. Ayoka writhed in his arms as though possessed until she could see the column of black on black stretching wicked fingers to the moon. The soft hope spreading its wings along the ground suddenly was immersed in hate and despair. It was not what it seemed to be. For the first time in his life, his heart had betrayed him. The dull roar of death could be heard in the distance. It flew toward them on wings blacker than the midnight shade, and they knew tonight was the beginning of something new. Tonight, the wheel of change began to spin once more on hinges rusty and decayed. This was the end of life as they had come to know it, they realized as they fled back to the relative safety of the great white house beneath the moon bathed in a sea of red.

The heat of the gathering flames bit and snapped at their ankles. Akuji pulled Ayoka closer and they clung to one another. As the welcome sight of the white manor swam into view through the tendrils of creeping mist, the sound of hooves on stone rang harshly on their ears. Strangers were nearing. With a look into her eyes, Akuji shoved her forward roughly. If they meant harm, they would pass through him first. He had no doubt that he would die in that case, but maybe it would give his love the time she needed to flee. After all, now that he had truly lived, what was there to fear in death?

The strange men drew up beside him within moments after he pushed Ayoka toward safety. She was a brave and headstrong girl, but he knew that this time she would listen to him. She would be safe for now. A man with olive skin reached out and grabbed by the hair with a hand worn and calloused in two identical bands across his palm but soft and smooth everywhere else. His face was obscured in the smoke and night; shadows played across features stretched in a parody of compassion. All that was left in Akuji's world was a powerful arm with a painful grip. A rough shout crossed into his clouded realm, "Salor, we need to get a move on! The rogue Banjiku is up ahead; the woman said he was at the white house were the Lord Seoras lives. Leave this one! He has nothing to do with us!"

"Aye, Captain, but he looks like a few of those half-bloods down in those huts we lit up. Maybe we should keep him? Just in case?" the voice was wheedling and cunning. It was deep and velvety with the perfect amount of uncertainty and decisiveness a man of power liked to hear.

"Very well, keep him," was the gruff response from the rasping voice just up ahead. He was still a darker blur on a canvas of shadow to Akuji's world, but he knew what was going on now. Someone had reported him as a Banjiku setting animals upon the Seoras family. He was responsible for the families without homes or loved ones. He was responsible for his people's deaths. They were coming for him, and they had him but did not know it yet. They were going toward Ayoka. She would see them and do something rash. He could not let that happen. He would be responsible for no more tragedies tonight.

Desperately, he threw himself backward. The was a sickening tearing sound and a searing pain in his scalp as a knot of wiry black hair torn from his flesh. The midnight strands peeked helplessly from the olive skinned youth's fist as Akuji plummeted to his backside. He scrambled furiously to his feet trying as hard as possible to focus on Ayoka and not the throbbing pain on the top of his head. However, it took only seconds for another, sharper pain to lance from the youth's sword hilt to his shoulder blades. For one precarious moment in time, barely long enough for a thought of despair, Akuji balanced before falling into the youth's waiting arms. Ungracefully, the youth with the surname Salor, tossed the helpless man before him on the horse already streaked with sweat and soot. Pain radiated to every nerve ending in his body until his vision throbbed to an unmerciful beat and glazed over with a faint red until the world spun into darkness.

It was only a moment before consciousness poured back into his limp body as if he were standing beneath a waterfall hundreds of feet high. It slammed into his aching muscles and pounded his tender bones. It felt as though it would peel away his flesh and wash away his blood, but he struggled through it to see a house white in the pearly starlight and dead of all but the flaming girl struggling with a horde of women clutching at her arms, clothes, and hair. Any part of her they could reach was grasped for, but Ayoka would not be restrained. Her love was bleeding, immobile over a horse's back and his hands were bound. Tears stood against her face drained of blood and moon white. They danced across her elegant cheekbones and died against her frozen skin like tiny stars, perfect diamonds. She was an angel from Hell; her eyes were only despair and anger. She had lost that human something swirling in the abysses of her eyes. Now, only vengeance tainted the perfection of her face. She had become something no one had ever known; her pain wrapped itself around her and made her into a beauty she had not ever possessed. Her face was frozen in rage; it was a timeless portrait of love and protectiveness no one dared defy. Ayoka was beyond reason; he could see it in her eyes.

Over the clash and clatter, the ringing of steel on stone and hope against desperation, Akuji heard the cold twitter of Madame Seoras, "What did you expect, girl? He is not one of us."

No, he was not. He was something they had no knowledge of and no power over. From the darkness of the jungle, a panther stalked restlessly to the aid of her brother. Along the tree line dark and tormented flashed two eyes the color of molten gold. Slowly, she paced the small distance as though a shadow, a twist of light. Silence was her second nature; secrecy her first. With a lithe leap, she landed neatly upon the unsuspecting beast bearing her hunting brother. His bonds were slashed in moments and he fell immediately to the ground leaving her ample room to sink her teeth into the wildly bucking and frenzied animal. Warm blood welled in her mouth, trickled down her throat. Still, the horse spasmed; its knees buckled and its heart raced. The human shouts meant nothing to her as she reveled in the glory of her kill. Finally, their words meant something as the white hot pain ripped through her pelt and the darkness of death seeped slowly into her mind. She accepted it and told her brother so. His pain was too much for her. He needed to save his mate; she had accepted her end long, long ago when blood was still knew to her tongue.

Tears studded his long, dark lashes as he watched the olive skinned youth stab his savior through the back, severing her spine. She had refused his demands; she had not left as he had requested of her. She had died because of him. He turned to see his beautiful love standing over a man the color of sand; her hands encased in rose red gloves. She lifted her eyes from the lifeless body at her feet. Slowly, she looked into Akuji's eyes, his soul once more. He understood. He wanted to help her, and with the flick of his wrist, he did. The man creeping up behind him fell with a muffled crash to the ground soaked in human and animal blood alike with a stolen knife protruding from his throat. His eyes were wide and staring. Like glass they fogged over slowly and steadily as the cold drowned out the heat of life.

"Go back, love. It's me they want!" he shouted brokenly over the wild cries of rage and death. His black eyes were hard and his deep voice cut through the chaos as though it was a scythe. This was the beginning. He could taste its coppery flavor against the roof of his mouth as he looked into her face white with determination. He was stepping through a door, a passageway, and he did not know how to stop.

"I will not leave you! You are me, just as I am you. If they come for you they come for me." Her voice was soft and comforting as though she spoke to a small child. He did not try to stop her again. He knew a futile battle when he saw one. Once more he returned to the maelstrom of bodies and emotions splayed brokenly about him. It was a patchwork quilt, a puzzle of the utmost complexity. Every movement caused a new reaction and a different outcome. What would happen, he wondered for the briefest of thoughts, if he should turn and step in a direction that was the opposite of where he was moving now? What havoc would that one simple change wreak? He did not dare comprehend it.

All about him men fought and lived. Their each breath pounded into the ever darkening night was new and exquisite. He did not kill another man. He felled two with blows that beckoned them into the realms of the unaware and unconscious. They may have been lucky. After all, they did not hear the scream that rent the relative silence of the bitter cold night swallowing them whole. This shriek was the sound of a creature in pain; it was a deep bellow that sank through flesh into bone and shook the marrow. It was the sound of death clawing its way into the breathing world for one heartbreaking moment.

Akuji spun on his heel the instant he heard the bloodcurdling noise. What his eyes saw was enough to cause his every injury to be ignored. This new wound made them all seem superficial. Ayoka stood, bathed in her own red blood. It ran in a scarlet cascade over her breast and pooled uselessly in her ivory white hands. He ran to her side, tears flowing freely directly from his heart. This was the last. He felt it; his heart had been ripped to pieces and each bloody ribbon screamed as it withered and perished, drowned in its own pool of red liquid. A rapier lay innocently dripping in the olive skinned youth's lax grip. It had pierced her very heart, cutting out the only part of her unwilling to admit defeat. Thin, weakened hands wrapped themselves in his. They were beaded and jeweled with warm, heavy ruby drops that sizzled in the coldness of the night. Her green eyes blazed as life seeped from them. Blood outlined her lips giving them an unnatural hue as her face became paler and paler in the waning night. Suddenly, those scarlet lips moved, "I will always love you, my darling. I am sorry; I must leave."

Absolute silence prevailed as her eyes dimmed and faded into a hollow grey. Tenderly, he shut her eyes with fingertips calloused and worn. Her body was cooling; her blood had stopped flowing. There was no longer a tattered heartbeat pounding determinedly against a ribcage just as broken as the rest of her. As if his words could change it all, he cried, "There is nothing to be sorry for, love. I love you, too, I always will. Please forgive me, please."

His voice faded away into nothing as sobs racked his body. He had never felt such pain before. His world was melting away before his eyes and he was tossed into churning black and red. Her blood pooled around him; it was drowning him, suffocating him. He could not think anymore; there was no light around him, everything was dark. Her hair beneath his hands was coarse and caked with dirt and blood. The dark red ribbon throttled her body stiff and cold in death. It was his fault. She never should have been out there. He had endangered her. He had killed her.

The soldiers stood out of the way. They watched the night dark man bent over the pale beauty crumpled and faded on the ground. They had been wrong. That was the long and short of it. This man was the one they had been called in on, but he was not the tormentor they had been told they would find. In fact, he was the love of the young lady of the house. She had loved him and he had loved her. What cruelty had they committed this night? What atrocity would their souls pay for as they perished and the light ceased to shine from their eyes? Was there truly a way to pay for the slaughter of love? No, they thought not. The captain shook his head deliberately and with a heavy heart as the young man in front of them wept unabashedly at their feet. Lost and alone, he pulled the girl to his chest and sobbed as though he could rid himself of all the pain of losing half of his life through tears. The grizzled captain knew no matter how much of the heart is discharged, the grief and pain would always thrive and throb where the heart once beat. This was the end of love.

The battered captain gruffly stated to the wailing mother, "We will not take the boy. We will forget he even exists. This night was never meant to happen, and we will act as though it has not. Forgive us, we were mistaken." With those words of little sympathy and devoid of compassion, he beckoned his men to leave and act accordingly.

Akuji clutched at the lifeless form of his beloved until the tears slowed and stopped. A dull ache settled into his chest and a sharp pain stabbed whenever he breathed. Why was he still alive and she was not? What gods had envied them so that they took the only part of him he truly loved? Why?

"What have you done?" screeched Madame Seoras. Her eyes were wild and her face was blanched. Her white blonde hair twisted and knotted itself in her face as it fell hysterically from her severe knot at the back of her neck. "What have you done?" she cried frantically.

"Nothing, Madame," he sighed heavily. His body was too weary to respond, to think, right now. Tears had left his mind numb and empty very much like his heart. He could not find it right now. There was no soft hum telling him to have faith, keep hoping. Hope was gone. So was love. "She died to save me. I tried to do the same for her. I failed, just as I have always." The truth hurt. So did love. But he knew that. "They killed her trying to arrest me for terrorizing your household. Someone misled them." Even his voice was dead to his ears.

She cackled. It was ruthless beyond his imagining. Her emerald eyes flashed maniacally against flesh white with shock. "I could not let her love you! What else would you have me do? I needed to get you away from her so she could see the error of her ways. You are no one. She was society, sophistication. You are and will always be wrong for her. But now, look what you have done! You befuddled her with promises you could not keep and lured her into this fate. You destroyed her. No one can bring her back! My only daughter! My baby!" tears flowed down her marble face without a pause or break in her words. She was ripping him to pieces, but he could not stop her. He half believed the words she said.

"You could have let me love her," was all he dared to speak. His voice was thick and hopeless. His love was gone, and he could not save her. No one could. Never again would she look out into the green depths of the jungle and purr to him and him alone. She would never again clutch at his hand as she walked and tilted her head back to look at the thousands of stars, trusting him to guide her. Never again would he wake to find her curled beside him like one of his feline cousins. Her fire had died in his arms. Her last breath had passed through her lips. She would never come back. He was truly alone.

The night passed on. The trees sang and whispered amongst themselves as if sighing a lament for the passing of love. Everything in this world can love. It can feel pain and suffering until the end of time, but it can also feel the joy and pleasure of love. Everything loves. Everything dies. The moon sank into the western sky before Akuji moved again. He was not listening to the soft chime of birds awakening and singing their songs of hope and renewal. Pain and death was all he could feel, all he could think of. A soft head brushed against his shoulder. The tawny fur glistened in the rose dawn as the cat looked up at him from jade green depths. He purred to offer comfort. He wrapped Akuji up in warmth and company as they both spoke of loss and beginning. He promised, with the gift of a name, never to leave Akuji alone completely.

Sweat soaked and terrified, Professor Akuji sat up in bed. Asha looked on, her eyes glowing reassuringly in the darkness. Memories always flooded past his careful walls when sleep finally overcame him. Every day he still thought of her. His every breath still sent a jarring pain through his chest where his heart should be. He knew very well all that was left of it was a memory; the vague feeling that he should feel something in a given situation. Ayoka was gone; he reminded himself firmly and once more felt the familiar tears slipping past his lashes. She has been dead for a long time; his broken remains of a heart screamed their reply. It was too much for a man as tired as he. He was far too tired.

Asha padded her way softly over to his lap and shoved the tangled sheets out of her way. _Another dream again_, she acknowledged.

"Yes, yet another, but there will still be more and more and more until I can no longer take it and perish in the night."

_You sound as though you wish for such a fate._

"I would like to die. I miss her so much, Asha. I cannot sleep for fear of dreaming and seeing her face. I cannot eat for fear of living without her forever. I cannot breathe for fear of never feeling hers against my cheek for all eternity. I am lost, my love."

_Yes, you are, but I am not a human. I cannot fully understand this pain you carry. That is why I brought you the girl. She can help you. She hurts, too._

"That is not enough, Asha. I cannot make myself trust her."

_Then how can you trust yourself if you cannot trust any other?_

"I cannot."

_You long for death, but you cannot die. Why is that?_

"I am still needed. My people need someone, and I cannot leave them without knowing there is someone to save them. They need hope, my darling Asha. I need hope."

_Then wait and hunt. You will find someone. Wait to die and join her until you have taken care of your people._

"You would have me as a martyr? To die willingly before my people knowing there is no hope for me or them, but they are more important than I? My dear one, I died long ago. I am simply waiting for this body to give in."

_Promise me you will not leave without trusting at least one other. Promise me that you will stay until the opportune moment. Promise me, brother._

"I promise. I will wait to die until I have fulfilled what is expected of me."

He resigned himself for a weary battle ahead. He closed his eyes slowing, knowing he would remain aware. There would be no more sleep for him tonight. The gentle call of one howler monkey to another far away in the distance reminded him of nothing in particular. After all, there was a time when he could still smile and laugh. Once he lived and did not worry about the troubles of the future, but that was not this time. Now, he waited and hunted. Someone was out there who was going to tip the balance so far that war would be inevitable. He would save his people like he could not save Ayoka all those years ago.

The night sank slowly around the dark haired boy's passage. He was like a shadow made of flesh and blood as he cut through the nocturnal stillness. Not even the moon turned her face to his. Dark storm clouds thrashed behind lashes long and dark enough to veil the tormented orbs in eternal night. Arram Draper stalked beneath a window of the University as he wandered toward his own rooms. His daze was abruptly broken as he heard the tortured cries filter cleanly through the screen of glass. Who called so piteously to the Black God who refused to listen? His feet slowed and his forehead creased in consternation. He knew this wing of the school. It was in the history section, near Professor Chiamaka's classroom. Shrouded in darkness, Arram stepped closer to the smooth stone surface radiating a memory of the sun's heat. His hand left a dusty print damp with apprehension and curiosity. What man shared the pain and turmoil locked behind iron bars within his own heart?

The soft gold glow of a single flame flickered and danced on the black grass. Arram pressed his spine into the steadying stone as if to hold himself up. Never before had he felt the world press upon him the way it did now. He had never had such troubles pool inside him and stink like stagnant waters black with death and decay. It pulled at him; a love wrenching him apart; a new compassion slowly twirling in her enigmatic dance over his heart; fear and dread twisting and curling over themselves as they ripped him to shreds; betrayal whispering softly and barely tainting his darkest thoughts. He had only begun to taste the anguish these bitter pleas promised. However, he was a quick learner.

Arram listened to the quiet, one-sided murmurs behind the gentle glow. The shrieks had stopped. The deep, booming whisper betrayed the speaker to Arram as he listened with a bowed head to the private, heart breaking conversation wafting out past his awareness. The night moved on. Slowly and haltingly, the night paused no longer for the pain of Professor Chiamaka. No longer could Arram wait outside the open window shrouded with night. He had to step into the daylight, if not the lonely, despairing room itself where passions lay buried and hopes haunted with eerie cries.

* * *

I had a lot of fun with this one. Hope you did too. Anyway, tell me in a review because I know you remember my arrangement! If I messed anything up, please let me know. I hate it when I have conflicting information, even if it is just a minor detail.


	14. Mornings

I hope you like this chapter! **Thank you very much for the reviews**! They were much appreciated. However, it has come to my attention that people begin to forget what the previous chapter was about by the time I update again. This is completely my fault. It takes me far too long to update, but I cannot truly do any better. This story has become a part of my soul,but so has my novel that I am attempting to complete. I find myself more and more drawn to Sitara, daughter of the stars, andVasilis,demon of the night (my book's main characters). Suddenly, it hasbeen a month since I updated and I fall once more intothis fic. I am terribly sorry about my lapses. My trick for remembering what happened in the previous chapter is to go back to it and read the last paragraph sometimes two. Usually it all starts to come back by then.

* * *

**"Love comes when manipulation stops; when you think more about the other person than about his or her reactions to you. When you dare to reveal yourself fully. When you dare to be vulnerable."**

**Dr. Joyce Brothers quotes (American Psychologist, Columnist and Author, b.1928)**

* * *

The dull throb of grey light peaking through the shut windows pricked and stung her eyes. She was tired of the constant remembrance that she was not home. She was alone. It did not matter how many of the people curled their bodies and awareness around hers. No amount of comforting purrs and friendly chirps could correct the wrongness her life had turned to. The very air floating thickly above her head seemed weighted as it pressed against her chest. She could feel her ribs protesting the ever increasing pressure, but maybe, a part of her mind argued, she deserved this. Maybe every horrific dream of fire and bones melting beneath its loving caress was meant for her to suffer. Somehow the thought of deserving the torture of glowing, colorless eyes and the stench of decaying flesh made it easier to bear. Her eyes filled with cold tears as she looked toward the windows. There was no one she loved waiting for her just beyond the sparkling glass window pane.

A soft knock startled her from her lonely thoughts. The sound echoed hauntingly in her mind and caressed her own sadness. It was heavy and desperate like the touch of gull's wing as it sailed and wheeled in the clouds pregnant with unbridled rage. Pulling her hair from her eyes, she moved to the door on feet as silent as dove's wings. She wrapped a soft hand around the cool flesh of the door as she swung it slowly open.

Arram stood framed in the early morning grey with a single, black curl falling listlessly into his eyes. Without thinking, Daine reached forward and tucked it away. His eyes pierced into hers, and she felt like weeping. She was a strong girl, but the desperate pain and sinister confusion roiling in his dark orbs was enough to make her a small girl again. Something in him had changed.

He wrapped a long, cool arm around her waist and drew her close to him. His voice was harsh as he asked to come into her rooms thick with tortured sleep. Not once did his eyes leave hers. The door shut with a dull thud as it sank once more into the wall's waiting embrace. Arram's face was dark and thunderous, but the soft lines between his eyes spoke of insecurity. She could feel his words rumble from the depths of his chest, "Promise me, Sarra, that you will never forget me. Even though you will leave me, you will always remember that I loved you."

His eyes were darker than she had ever seen. "I could never forget," she whispered in the quiet abyss between them in the brief moment before he pulled her lips against his. His hands crushed her to him and his arms held her safe from the dreams of fire and ever changing smiles. He was consuming her soul; she was burying herself deep inside his heart so that neither would ever be the same again. Every place their bodies touched burned with a white hot voracity that threatened to obliterate their very memories. She curled her fingers reflexively in his hair as her nerve endings spasmed as they surrendered to the flaming inferno beckoning her ever further from sanity.

The sudden contact of her hands against his flesh pulled her back to reality. Somehow, she had managed to untie his tunic and was in the process to pulling it from his shoulders. His skin was hot and dark with a sun-kissed glow; her hands seemed impossibly small and white against him. His heart throbbed against her palm, and she looked deeper into his eyes black with a flame she had not seen before. She whimpered softly and promptly jerked at his tunic, demanding that he shed it. He laughed. He threw back his head and let loose a deafening roar that shook his entire body until he was leaning against her. Still laughing, he lifted her up into his arms and spun her toward her bed. Gently, he laid her on the bed and joined her. Their lips found each other again and she could taste his laughter still bubbling up from somewhere deep inside him. His hands untangled her sash and pushed her nightclothes aside. Their hands wandered lazily over each other's bodies evoking an all encompassing whirlwind of flame and wind. It was a dance no one knew until it had begun.

Sighing, Arram buried his face in the mass of curls trailing gentle fingers over Daine's throat. Her clothes were knotted around her waist and her breast band clung to her like a second skin. Its straps were resting haphazardly; one was somewhere near her elbow, but she did not care. She lovingly stroked the contours of his face with a small smile on her lips. Moments passed and within those pauses between each breath, the world was spread before them. Tangled together in a mass of limbs and knotted clothing, the world waited for them. She could let it wait long. "How is that you love me, Arram? Why?"

His eyes were hard with a thoughtfulness she was far more accustomed to. "You have heard then of Varice." It was not a question. He did not wait for an answer, "It is true. I do love her, but times are changing. I will always love her, but our love is fading into the memory of what we once held. Neither of us saw it coming, but then again does anyone ever see the impending death of their love? No, no one ever looks for it. I can feel the decay of it around me whenever I look at her, but I still love her. I cannot change that."

He looked into Daine's swirling eyes. He sighed and pressed his lips to hers before murmuring against her flesh, "I love you with a love that is new and blossoming. It is like the middle of spring where Varice is the beginning of fall. I love you because I see something in you that sees me as who I am. I see someone I will long for all my life, but you will never let me have you. It is alright. I can tell." His eyes held a sadness she had not anticipated. His lips were tilted in a crooked smile that held more wistfulness than anything else.

"No," she sighed as she ran one long finger over his lips. "I never will. It will make it easier for the both of us." His resounding silence was more of an answer than she could bear. "Promise me though, you will never forget that I love you, and I always will."

She untangled herself from his arms and began her search for clean clothes. The soft moan of the bed made it clear that he was following her example. The cool breath of air against her exposed back taunted her as he passed her. She looked into the mirror resting against the wall above her bureau. Her eyes were wide and slanted with a mysterious darkness that lingered near her lashes. Her hair was wilder than ever. She was falling apart; love was ripping her to shreds, and the only way she could imagine escape was death. She dared not die. She dared not leave him. She would do so anyway. The faithful glass shimmered and laughed at her wild thoughts. It reflected her face back at her as tears filled her eyes and threatened to fall. He had not promised her anything, but she had already promised him.

She turned to find Arram leaning against her door. His hair was just as chaotic as the first day she had seen him, and his smile has just as bright. She could not help but smile back at him. She twirled on her toes once in a quick circle; she was rewarded with a laugh that sprang unbidden from his lips. "I wanted to take you to see a friend I made." She pointed at the sleek, black cat crouched daintily beneath the small bedside table, "Seqhen said that you were talking to a Banjiku man about wild magic. My friend can help you with your questions, too." Her radiant smile made him agree to accompany her before her words truly sank in.

As she stepped close to the door to swing it open into the desolate corridor, he wrapped one hand softly around her small wrist. "I promise," he whispered against her ear with his lips brushing her wild curls she had not bothered to tame.

* * *

Daine danced across the smooth floors cool with morning's promise. Not a single light shone upon these floors as she led Arram along by the hand. He questioned in a low voice so as not to disturb the pressing silence, "How can you see where you are taking me in this darkness? I can light one of the lanterns or set up a mage light."

"That's not necessary, Arram. I can see fine. Cat's eyes, you know? Just follow me."

"Oh, well then…"

She bit her lip to keep from giggling at the curiosity in his voice. He was desperate to see what she looked like. Suddenly, she stopped. She raised her hand slowly to the hard wood door before her and smiled. She pounded upon the door while sending a silent message to Asha to answer the door. Professor Akuji would come quickly, she was sure.

Before she even suspected, the door was flung open wide to reveal rooms filled with warm, golden sunshine. Professor Akuji stood with the sunlight crowning him fully dressed and donning a disgruntled smile as he welcomed her. He did not seem surprised to see Arram with her, but Asha let Daine know of his heightened curiosity. Just what I need, she thought to herself, more curious men.

Gracefully and lithely, the professor led his two visitors to his study full of earth browns and dignified reds with a soft turn of his dark hand. Once everyone settled into chairs hard with an unusual softness, the professor turned to Daine with a hard look in his eye and asked in a voice deep, but welcoming, "Why is it, my dear, that you have brought Master Draper with you this morning?" His one, dark eyebrow arched inquisitively as he waited until he knew what alias, what life, this strange girl sitting before him lived today. It did not take long for Asha's croon to appease his curiosity.

"Professor Chiamaka, I did not know Sarra was bringing me to see a professor. I thought, when she said she wanted to introduce me to a friend, she meant one of the Banjiku people. I have been studying their power, sir," Arram concluded almost sheepishly as the last word rolled from his tongue.

As Asha twined about his ankles with a deep, vibrating purr, Professor Akuji leaned over his desk to rest the bulk of his weight upon his elbows. Arram could not help but stare into the black eyes before him. They were too dark, poisoned by some unknown pain that he did not wish to bleed away. No, that pain, that darkness was a part of his soul now, Arram realized as he saw something thick and even darker roll slowly through the professor's gaze. Here was a man sold body and soul to his past indiscretions. Arram could empathize with him, to a certain extent. After all, times were changing, and darkness was ever nearing.

Professor Akuji watched as fear then apprehension and suddenly understanding and acceptance flashed through the dark haired youth's soft brown eyes. This young man sitting before him was different than the one that attended his classes with a studious rigidity that promised he would not see the truth hidden just behind the words. This man was older, more alone than ever before. However, this man could stand alone without fear because he knew it was time to change. Life was ever moving. It could never stay still.

"Yes, she did bring you to me then, for that purpose. Did you not, Sarra?" he rumbled with a hint of life beneath his words. It was time he entrusted yet another to help him. He was not long for this world; he could feel it in his blood. He was so weary of it all that he had to flee. Soon, it would be time for him to answer to his nightmares.

Sarra beamed at Arram as he looked slightly perplexed. It was time he learned about what was to become of these people. Both of these men needed each other. They needed someone as alone as themselves to hold onto when the next great chasm bloomed before their feet with an ever widening, gaping grin. "Professor Akuji is part Banjiku, sweetling. He can answer any of your questions without fear of a beating at the Emperor's hands, so long as you keep it a secret. No one else knows of his heritage," she prodded. They needed each other, but they seemed incapable of speaking to one another. _That is way there are women_, she chuckled secretly to Asha, _we are far more practical. _The rumbling purr took on a new pattern; the sound of a cat's laughter.

Arram gazed unperplexed at the still man looking back at him with suspicion only a cat could muster. "Sir, if you are half Banjiku, do you have the power as well?"

"Yes," he almost hissed. He was waiting for the boy's response. Black eyes narrowed in the sunlight flooding and drowning all wrapped within the close confines of civilization. "I am a cat-man. You have heard of Sarra's talent, yes?"

She watched them both and her eyes flashed briefly with annoyance. He was attempting to punish her for telling Arram his secret by telling an identical one of hers. She had expected it, but they were being difficult.

"Yes, yes, of course; that is why I am trying to find the reasoning behind it. Surely one with such a gift is not born inherently knowing how to control and use it? Not even the carefully confined and controlled Gift is so well tamed. I want to know everything about this wild magic, professor. Can you teach me?" His eyes burned with a ravenous intensity that seemed to make the very air before him crackle and hiss with his overwhelming desire to know. Still, Professor Akuji was unwilling to jeopardize himself and all the others bowing with the intensity of their burdens. It was only Asha that made him change his mind. _What is it you fear? Is it removing a burden from your own shoulders, or letting another see the faults within you? All he wishes is to know. You are the same way yourself. _

With a sigh speaking of relief and terrible distress, the professor met Arram's eyes once more. "The world I know is not an easy place to travel. Perhaps it is time others knew of this world laced with magic of every kind as well." Times were changing. Now, the walls were falling down with it.

* * *

In the gleaming halls of gold and white, a green eyed man bowed elegantly at his waist before a vision in gold. His blood red cloak spun about him as though it were a cloud of doom heralded by many as death. "My lord, something has changed Draper. He is no longer afraid, Your Highness."

"Then, Marlon, it is time you taught him what it means to fear before I show you the full horrors hiding behind the crown."

* * *

The brown and green blanket stretched elegantly beneath her aged and timeless eyes. Clouds the color of ivory swam in lazy circles above her land of love and death. Horrors only she knew slept peacefully in their graves; until she beckoned them, that is. The Graveyard Hag reclined in her swirling mist as she gazed upon her people, her land. With a small frown, she peered closer at her lovely new emperor as he ordered, in secret, the demise of one of hers. Normally, she would not mind, but this time, she knew promise when she saw it. In the young Arram Draper, there was glory she had not known in a very long time. It would not do to have it stolen from her. What trickeries was her boy up to now as he sat upon his regal throne of gold?

She clucked her tongue like a patient mother and turned her gaze toward Draper. She cackled unpleasantly as she watched his delight spread across his face. Yes, he was the promise for her land. With a golden emperor and a black robe mage, who would dare stand against her might?

Once more, she turned her gaze. Beside her promise-child reclined a girl with untold mystery. She was the one, then. The one her rats had whispered to her about; the gods-born girl with hair like wild thistles and eyes like stormy seas. What was she doing here, in her realm of might, tainted with the stench of chaos?

* * *

Review, review, review! 


	15. The Hag

I am so sorry for the incredibly long delay! I was suffering from an extreme case of writer's block which I am still attempting to recover from, so this chapter is shorter than what I wanted. Also because of this severe case, I completely lost my train of thought. It vanished completely, so I had to create a new one. Let me know if any problems/questions arose because of this. I will try to fix things!

Darth Granger - I'm sorry I made your head hurt

Shadowrayne - I'm so glad you loved that part! It was my definitly my favorite to write

Thanks to anyone else who reviewed!**

* * *

**

**There with vast wings across the cancelled skies,**

**There in the sudden blackness the black pall**

**Of nothing, nothing, nothing -- nothing at all.**

**-- ****Archibald MacLeish**

* * *

She looked down upon her small, dark chosen one. He was nothing like the lovely boy she had placed upon the throne, but he would do to help sustain him. She was sure of it. She always had been. Now, this girl that smelled of cold winters and strange flowers was distracting him from the path she had wanted for him. The Graveyard Hag rolled a coil of her thinning, oily hair between her crooked fingers as she thought. This girl was not meant to be sitting beside any of her own, but that much was obvious from the bloody brand of Chaos that clung to her like a fever. Something had gone wrong. The trickster goddess leaned closer. No, she decided, something _will_ go wrong. Her gleeful cackle crashed mercilessly about her as she inspected the girl more closely. Yes, there really was no mistaking it. The girl had an unusual faintness to her aura that often spoke of death, but there was no death looming in the horizon for this child. The Hag knew that without even a moment's glance. She sighed and looked at her grizzled hands as she reached out and stroked her rat minions, "She is an unexpected guest, but that does not make her anymore unwelcome. Go, welcome the girl. I will speak with the God Born myself. She could be – most useful. Her gift is extraordinary." 

The small, scraggly mercenary disappeared with an agreeable squeak. Yes, she thought, Perhaps it was time to offer a test to her young, handsome Prince. Mithros knew he was ready for one. She stared mirthlessly down upon the small specks of life flickering threateningly in the winds of chaos from her throne in the clouds.

* * *

The sweet, heavy scent of decay and death shifted slightly in the ghastly dark breeze. There was nothing in the darkness swirling beneath the colorless, shapeless eyes. A mouth stretched, yawned, in a parody of delight before it melted into a hollow gash ripping eternally down, down, down. Lungs screamed and gasped as they expanded; life flooded through veins dry and dead before shriveling into lifeless corpses once more. Never solid and eternally horrifying, Chaos extended one hand, claw, talon into the surrounding shadow. Her world of nightmare and havoc split with a cascade of light over the shroud of darkness. Humanity slipped into her vision. And she smiled. 

The Queen of Chaos bared her fangs, teeth, and she snarled momentarily down upon her victim. How gently she glided over the soft grass beneath the burning, human sun! Uusoae watched with a wicked eye as the girl aflame with copper slid her hand into the long fingers of another. The fool of a child was becoming attached. How much turmoil would the loss of this one girl cause? She laughed brokenly as the possibilities stretched before her eyes. This mistake, this blemish on the face of her power, her plan, was becoming a more potent end than what she had originally seen. Here, in this land where the shroud of terror had not yet fallen, she had the chance to set a plan in motion no one would see, no one would fear until it was far too late. The light rippled and she saw the girl curled in the arms of her lover, arms around a small creature; a dark man shadowed their thoughts. Humans were so easy to manipulate. Humans were so weak, so fallible.

* * *

In the golden sunlight bathing the land in a burning halo, Arram led Daine by the hand along an obscure pathway through the sweltering heat. Swathes of gold and yellow brushed their flesh slicked with sweat as the moved through the air thick and heavy with untold tales. In this quiet field so far away from reality, they could feel no worry. For the first time, Arram was truly happy; he was focused on the here and now. He was smiling at Daine. He was listening to her chiming laugh. He was waiting for her next breath. Her every movement was novel to him. Love was so mysterious; the light and dark of mankind. 

Daine saw the face floating so near to hers. His face was flushed with heat and joy; his lips as pink as hers from spontaneous kisses. She smiled broadly again as he took her hand in his. He was thinking about her. The professor's words were carefully stored in the back of his mind for later perusal, and he was smiling at her. She had not been so happy in a very long time. Her dreams as of late had been darker, more horrifying. She found herself forgetting the present and slipping into this past; it was less painful here after the initial shock eased. Numair still tormented her thoughts; her longing for him wrapped her in a melancholy she had never before felt. It was an emptiness she had not even felt at the end of her life in Galla. He was a part of her she was letting herself believe that she would never see again. The sudden understanding inspired her to cling to Arram all the tighter.

Arram ran inquisitive fingers through her hair as her hands squeezed his. There was something about her. He almost laughed aloud at the thought. Of course, love makes everything new and special. His eyes darkened as she released him and crouched down in the golden grasses. Small black eyes and a quivering, scarred nose protruded from the scarce shadows as she leant closer to the furry rodent. What an odd thought love was. In fact, did anyone truly understand it? What is love that twists the heart and ensnares the senses? He watched Daine scowl darkly at the scavenger beneath her gaze and he knew, this is what love is. It is the feeling of floating and never needing fear the unknown because he had loved and was loved by her. What was there to fear in death having lived with her?

The rat twitched its whiskers at Daine in irritation. She listened to its callous prattle with distaste. Rats were sly vermin not to be trusted. The resulting memory flashed before her eyes with a single heartbeat, but it was long enough. She remembered now. Rats were the chosen of the Graveyard Hag, patron goddess of Carthak. While in Carthak, it made her a Great Goddess with the power to match. Did the Hag not owe her from her first time in Carthak? What deals would a trickster goddess be willing to entertain? Was it worth it to tempt the goddess's interest? Daine thought of Numair, and she thought of Arram. Who would she be willing to sacrifice? Was it selfish to not want to be hurt anymore than she was already?

The small, sad smile that tugged at the corner of Daine's lips caught Arram's attention. He knew that look. It was her expression of pain, of goodbye. She was leaving. The thought crushed him. Anger coursed through his veins unexpectedly. It was the greasy vermin's fault for what it had said to her that brought her attention back to the notion of leaving him. Alone. She was leaving him alone with his thoughts and memories. She was leaving him the dusty halls of his mind where his friends had never stepped and only books and texts knew existed. He felt the cold creep up his spine and he remembered the empty stare of the professor's black eyes. That was the look of a man who had retreated completely to those dark and musty corridors.

Daine smiled sweetly at Arram's disturbed countenance. His expression warmed her; she would not tell him of her thoughts, at least not yet. She still had some thinking to do, especially after hearing the rat's message. It seemed the goddess had the same interest in her as she did the first time. Or the last. A wicked glint flashed in her eyes as once more she tangled herself in her thoughts of time and now.

* * *

The dark shadow moved and slipped into the surrounding ambiguity. He had seen enough. There was a method, a procedure that must be followed. He would not break from that. Marlon Salor slowly slid over grass and branch alike without a thought to the terrain ahead. He knew what he had seen. He knew what was ordered of him and what was expected. He always attempted to achieve more. Emerald eyes flashed hauntingly as he slipped through the sparse shadow. Salor was always the cold fear in the night, the despair that stalked the darkness. 

Marlon Salor stopped beneath the sheltering awning of a tree older than time. The bark was warm to the touch and rippled with unseen memory. A shuddering breath tore past his lips as he cradled his head in his hands. What things in life were assured? Death was a certainty, just as the promise for the taste of life. Pain was a certainty. Wherever life and hope led those two followed. Tears stung at his eyes like sharp knives before he lifted his golden head. In a life where there were few certainties, he had to walk the path he had chosen. This was his life. This is where he had placed himself.

Long, golden fingers curled about the dark, teak handle of the paper thin blade buried deeply in the folds of his tunic a deeper red than blood. The razor sharp blade bit into the soft fabric and tore the fine threads with its silent jaws. A new sense of determination flooded Salor's veins with a semblance of hope as he lurched once more into action. The dagger slid easily without protest into the innermost folds of his clothes once more.

It does not seem to be much, but the act of living is harrowing as it is. When the decision to remain in the confines of the Hell one has created for themselves comes about, it is not weakness to submit to this darkness. On the contrary, it is courage of infinite proportions to step out of the web woven about one's self. Very few possess this courage, and Marlon Salor, the golden shadow of the emperor, was not one of the courageous. His courage, his bravery was the type to continue living when joy was rapidly slipping away. He was brave enough to stand before his fears, silently, without protest, though they howled in his dreams and tormented his thoughts. He endured the consequences of his choices because that was the bravery he possessed.

He slowly sank to his heels and drew another, smaller blade from his boot. In the hard, dry dirt he began to sketch his plan. It would fit all the parameters of assassination, without the actual death of the man in question. Arram Draper held promise for the Empire; therefore, it was necessary to keep a body and mind, but a heart would not be needed. The thin lines in the red dirt gaped back at Salor's emotionless gaze. He did not smile; his face did not move, but victory gleamed softly in the gentle glow of his eyes. The emperor wanted Draper, but he had said nothing of the girl.

* * *

Anyone notice how everyone seemed to like to smile? Just a random observation.


	16. Fear

**I am so sorry that this has taken so long. I have not given up, but my schedule has become almost more than I can handle. However, I think I should be able to have another chapter up next weekend. It is not a promise though. Sorry. Thanks for those of you who have kept faith in me! I don't know where I would be without you! I meant to include a reminder of the previous chapter but my computer will not let me access anything that has to do with this story, so you are going to have to look back yourselves. Sorry for the inconvenience!****

* * *

**

_ You know only,  
A heap pf broken images, where the sun beats,  
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,  
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only  
There is shadow under this red rock,  
(Come in under this red rock),  
And I will show you something different from either  
Your shadow at morning striding behind you  
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;  
I will show you fear in handful of dust._

_T.S. Eliot _

* * *

There are questions that must be asked. Love can feel a fleeting thing when faced with the belief, the fear that nothing is truly real and shall not last. Who is to say what is real and what is not? Is it the gods? Yes, they have done a grand job so far; their faces obscured, hidden behind gossamer wings or blinding light so that mortals cannot come to them for answers. No, the gods stepped aside long ago. Who then did they leave the task to? Mortals? Surely they were not so foolish as to hand mortals their own fates to do with as they pleased! Where does reality end? How long can reality and truth be tolerated? Questions must be asked. Who said they must be answered?

Daine slid one thin hand through hair snarled and wild. Thick, copper strands clutched at her fingers as she pulled her hand away from her scalp. What was in store for her this time? What was so unique about her that the gods were battling for her attentions and ultimate destruction? Why did they pick her to be their sacrificial lamb? What made them think she would let them lead her to the slaughterhouse without a thought? Some questions were not meant to be answered. Some were not even meant to be asked.

Arram followed the coarse movement of her slender hand with his dark eyes. She was hiding something from him so dark and consuming that she believed he could not stand to hear it from her lips. The words of the dark professor as he corned him in the doorway after Sarra had already passed into the shadowy hallway echoed despairingly through his mind, "Whatever happens, know that she loves you. Whatever secrets she hides, remember she hides them not for you but for herself. She is a girl no one could have ever imagined, and she loves in the same unusual way. Never doubt her, for she will not doubt you." His heart felt like a leaden weight as it pressed against his ribs. He never noticed the thin, wraithlike shadow that flitted across his path.

"Sarra, what is wrong? Why do you not tell me what it is you are so worried about? It seems whenever I look at you, your eyes are heavy with thought and your mouth is pinched to keep your fears inside. You can trust me."

She smiled hesitatingly, "It's not that I don't trust you." Something screamed in her mind; she shut it out, whatever Arram was thinking and feeling now was more important than one of the People's wish for attention. "It's just that I have to do this by myself. I have to keep this inside me because otherwise I think I could not live with it looking me in the face day after day. This way it stays where I can only hear it murmuring to me in the dead of night." She kept the memory of burning eyes staring hauntingly back at her from their colorless depths silent. "If I need help, I will come to you," she stated with utmost trust and faith in her eyes. It was all the faith she had stored over the years of standing by his side through battles and terrors Arram had never seen and could not comprehend yet. He had never seen the feral eyes of a hurrock as it swooped in for the kill. "I love you," she offered as a peacemaker between them; it was as if to comfort him and smooth the harsh differences between them.

"I love you, too," he sighed and ran a large hand over his face as if to wipe away his confusion. He did not understand the look in her eyes. He reached out for her and kissed her forehead. She relaxed into his touch and he could feel her bones aching in protest. He knew from the way she leaned against him that she was not sleeping. She was so far out of his control.

"Come, Sarra, it is growing late, and I have classes tomorrow." She kissed him lightly with a devilish smile and proceeded to permit him to lead her back to the University.

* * *

Soft night air caressed her flesh as she swung open the window to permit her friends inside. She did not wish to sleep, but her lashes seemed to weigh so much that she could not keep her eyelids open. Her body ached so sharply that she was sure the throbbing centered from her very bones. Carefully, she settled into bed with a prayer to anyone who would hear her that the torture would wait another night. One goddess heard.

As sleep slipped like a heavy drought down her throat and into her blood, total darkness reigned. Daine's body did not move, but she was somewhere far, far away from where she lay. Sudden, white light cascaded over her face and burnt her eyes. She tried to hold back the tears that would soothe the fiery touch, but it was hopeless. It was not like she would be able to see anyway. Slowly, sounds and smells wrapped around her. The tang of salt air and clatter of hooves on packed earth resonated about her. Her eyes cleared.

A dark haired man sat before her. His large hands were calloused slightly and his clothes were barely rumpled from travel. He lifted his face toward her and his dark brown eyes sparkled. The corners of his mouth twitched and he asked, "What is so interesting, Daine? Come, sit with me."

It felt like her heart was breaking. She was at the Swoop with Numair sitting on a sun warmed stone before her feet. Not a hair was out of place as he flashed her a taunting smile. Her eyes swam again, but she was happy. She fell into his arms with a satisfied sigh, "I am so tired, Numair."

"Then rest, my Magelet. You deserve to relax, for now." His hands caressed her wild tresses and drew unintelligible patterns across her back.

Slowly, the sound of screams and the smell of death wafted threateningly through the air. Terror swirled in the faintest breeze, and Numair's hands were still. His face was white and she knew hers was as well. The thick feeling of death dripped down their spines and she looked fearfully over his shoulder. Dark creatures she had never seen before rode toward them on wind from Hell; their eyes burned a darker shade than dried blood. She could not stand to look at them, but they came closer, ever closer. One drew a blade whiter than ivory and held it steady. The thick scent of decay spilled from its lips and it reached one scaly, claw like hand toward her.

Both Daine and Numair were on their feet. Both rocked back and forth on the balls of their feet as they braced themselves. This was to be the end. They both knew it. Fear is a terrible thing when it must be faced eye to eye like this. It is a monster with a mouth so wide it can swallow the world. Daine clutched Numair's hand, but he looked at her sadly and said, "I have to go now. If you run, I can still save you."

She tried to open her mouth to protest, but he had already thrown himself into the path of the horrible creatures. He had already sacrificed himself, but she could not move. She watched, transfixed, as the one with the ivory blade approached Numair and stabbed him though the stomach with an unearthly keen of laughter. It was so corrupt as to make the ground seethe and buckle in its desperation to flee, but Daine could not. She could not even scream as the sound filled her mouth, ears, nostrils, and eyes. She saw Numair drenched with his own red blood. The creature laughed again.

The sword was held limply in its grasp, Numair's blood dripped in slow, ruby drops to soak into the soil. Red on white was all she could see as Numair screamed in pain and fire leapt from the earth to consume him. Flesh and clothes burned away and blood boiled. She could see the fire reflected like a thousand miles of pain in his eyes glazed with death. His lipless mouth moved, but she could hear no sound as his bones melted into the heat of the flames. Her face was hard with tears. Her palms were red with blood from the tiny crescents her nails had dug into her unyielding hands. His eyes danced before her again and again until darkness swallowed her once more.

The shapeless terror drifted close to her once more and extended an oozing hand. "Take comfort, child," hissed the turbulent mass of chaos, "he died just for you." Her sibilant cackle was the last thing she heard as her mouth was filled with the drowning, galling flavor of fear as Chaos once again reached for her face.

With a muffled scream, she awoke drenched with a cold sweat. The salt of her tears melded with the ice coating her body. Her breath came in short bursts, but she was beginning to control herself. She had to face her fears. With broken wail she slid back into bed, but the dark pressed against her eyes so she could not close them. The shadows hissed as she attempted to quiet her breathing. With a determined sniffle, she clamped her eyes shut with the heel of her hands. She was determined to sleep. She had to say something to Chaos before she lost her nerve completely. Daine was so wrapped up in her determination that she never heard the whisper of silk against silk as a solid shadow oozed through her open window.

The corporeal nightmare slid his fingers into the inner pocket of his tunic. He removed a vial dark with the obsidian liquid. Slowly, he floated toward the bed where the girl lay with her hands pressed against her face. He knew this was a delicate job. He had to be even quieter than what was standard procedure. If she became alerted to any sound, he would be seen. That was not a risk he was willing to take. He uncorked the tiny, crystal vial and splashed its odorless fluid onto a soft, linen rag. Not even the sound of his breath could be heard as he approached the shadow of a girl.

All Daine could see was darkness. She was falling into herself and she could feel the emptiness encroaching. Satisfaction was so close, but she would never reach it. Slowly, she felt her limbs tingling as sleep began to insinuate itself into her body. She was too far gone to struggle too much when she felt the feather light weight of cloth against her face. Awareness, instead of coming closer in her terror, fled further from her grasping hand. Desperation flooded her mind, but she could not fight. She was so tired, so very, very tired.

A dull light flickered on the edge of a black horizon. She did not know what it was, but she felt soft satin beneath her palms as she reached toward it. Velvet curtains and plush pillows surrounded her as color began to reemerge. Sudden fear made the last of her befuddled thoughts vanish. She was not alone. She could feel the soft, rasping breath of her companion, and she was afraid of what she would find. She had never been so afraid of the unknown. Unconsciously, she thought of Numair and how she missed his hand holding hers.

"So, you've come at last, girlie. I had to wait in line and I'm not fond of waiting," came the familiar, cracking cackle of the Graveyard Hag. Some of her fear vanished; however, the last time she was with the Hag, she had died shortly after.

"You've been busy it seems. Who is it that made me wait?"

Despite her appearance and demeanor, the Hag was still a goddess. She had to answer. "Another goddess; my mother became a minor goddess in my homeland when she died." It was not a lie, but it was not the answer either.

The Hag looked at her long and hard with her one good eye. The girl was not lying. She was god-born, that much she had already known. "Who's your father?" she was nothing if not direct.

Daine made a slight face. She did not like divulging all her secrets. After all, her mother was still alive, and she was just a baby. "My mother never told me before she died."

The Hag narrowed her eyes. She did not like being lied to, but it did not matter. "Very well, don't tell me. I have things to tell you anyway. You are not meant to be here. This is not your time, nor your place. Leave my chosen ones alone."

"Chosen ones? There are more than just Ozorne?"

"Of course, even as lovely and charming a boy as he cannot be expected to make my country the greatest all on his own, can he? Anyway, that's not important. You could be valuable to me. You can make my country greater than all the others because you are unique. You are the only one with the power of the gods. My chosen ones would be pleased to have you." Her smile was wicked and possessive. Her greedy hands were clasped tightly together, and her grey, wispy hair fell into her eye black with desire. She wanted power.

"No," Daine frowned up at the goddess on her dais of soft pillows. "You already owe me a service from the last time I was here. I will not have you take advantage of me again."

"Whatever it is, it hasn't happened yet. I can't owe you anything for something that I have never done." A deep, almost petulant scowl creased her brown face.

Daine scowled just as darkly back. It was not good to let this goddess do anything remotely against one's will because she would then seek to completely take over. "But if you want to be able to use me in the future, you are going to have to agree to my terms. Things change, you know."

"What is it you want, girlie?" The Hag's toothless grin made Daine cringe. She hated having to agree to this. However, her disastrous time in Carthak the year before had been incredibly important to her life. If she had too, she was willing to part with that part of her innocence again. "I need help getting home, to my time. They need me there."

"Is that so?" was the skeptical cackle. "You are so important, that you can't stay and fix the problem before it starts?"

"If I did that, I think I would die before I even became this age. I will not risk that. I've made promises."

A strangle tickling began in her abdomen and trickled out to her appendages. Her head started to swim and her eyes tried to become unfocused. The Hag cackled again with more mirth. "Our time's run out. Leave and I will think about what you want. We will meet again."

* * *

Marlon Salor was congratulating himself on his success. The potion had worked instantly and she had slept deeply. No one discovered him slipping from her rooms; no one had been stargazing as he whisked her away. Every no and then she would writhe and scowl, but she did not wake up. It had almost been too easy. Now, as she blinked her storm blue eyes open, he realized the depth of his accomplishment. No one knew she was gone. No one would miss her for some time. Perhaps the emperor would wish to see her. It was always a thought.

The heavy slam of the cell door and it slid into place was more satisfying than he was willing to admit. It had been a long time, a very long time, since he had created such havoc. Now, he began to remember why he subjected himself to such pains every day. He slid his thin fingers up the silk cuff of his sleeve. The angry, red lines protruding from his flesh was a reminder to himself. He should not be so pleased. He had not yet completed the job. His face twisted into a brutal sneer of pain, hatred, and disgust. Those scars ran in thick lines all the way up his arm. They were nothing to the scars littering his soul.


	17. Choice

**Alright, I am sorry. I lied once again about my updates, but I have an excuse this time for both my lateness and my random chapter. I have been sick for a while so things have kind of taken a unique turn. I'm going to have to reread and see what I can do from here because even I am slightly confused, but that might have something to do with the medication.**

Tortalls Resident Wildchild** - it just wouldn't be me without the creepy and confusing!**

Narm's Boreas** - you did hit on some of the main points. I used heaven and hell for literary purposes as they are the most identifiable extremes for the modern times, but, correct me if I am wrong (it has been a while since I have read the books), being polytheistic does not mean they do not have a "good place" and a "bad place" to go to when they die. I know they have the Black God's Realm, and I am assuming that it translates into one of the aforementioned destinations.**

**Thanks so much for all my reviewers! I got 5 reviews for one chapter which is almost record-breaking! Keep it up!**

* * *

"Great talents are the most lovely and often the most dangerous fruits on the tree of humanity. They hang upon the most slender twigs that are easily snapped off." 

C. G. Jung, "Psychological Reflections"

* * *

The darkness caressed his wind-burned face turned grey and hollow with lack of sleep. This was the time of day when all his fears came back. This was the one time when he could not hide his face from the bitter reality. The longer Daine slept without waking, the less chance she had of ever waking again. Numair tangled his fingers in his snarled and knotted hair. Slowly, his body rocked back and forth against the smooth surface of the cave wall. In his sudden defiance, he pushed himself to his feet and stalked out into the night. Yes, the night air was chilling as it wrapped itself around his lungs. He could almost taste the cold on his tongue as though it was a mild elixir. 

Finally, he found himself standing beside the clear water of the stream as it hissed and undulated like the flesh of a huge serpent. He towered above the water, but it stared up at him unerringly through black, glassy eyes. There was no escaping the penetrating stare. Slowly, he felt his defiance trickle away and bleed into the night dark water swirling at his feet. The stars danced across the smooth surface unbroken with the nightmares that plagued his ever despairing mind. He felt his eyes relaxing. The tears he had been withholding all day slipped innocuously between dark, heavy lashes. His mind was spinning; thoughts slipped hopelessly away. For the first time, he was calm. He was controlled, and in his despair, he was accepting. He would let her go if the time came. He knew it in his heart despite the fear of doing so, but he would not, could not, hold on without her. Somehow, he was accepting of that. He understood.

The muffled scream of the water as it meandered through cold stone wrapped around Numair's senses. Dark eyes aged with sorrow drifted to stare into the cold depths. Light played across the smooth surface like the delicate touches of the first snow spiraling to the earth. Entranced, he watched…

_"I don't know how much longer I can continue this, love," sighed the dark haired king as he pressed his face into his hands. The fire crackled and the small, blue light hovered comfortingly before his strained and weary face. _

_"I know, sweet, I know. What are we to do when the world turns dark and those we love disappear? Hold on, love," crooned the soft voice of the Queen Thayet. "Hold on, if only for me."_

_"Angel, what am I to do? Who am I now? Love, there is nothing I can do that the others cannot. I feel…I feel that I am useless. I fear that when the time comes, there will be nothing I can do."_

_"Please, Jon, don't talk like that. Please, please, I-I don't –" her voice trailed away as it become more and more delicate. She sounded like a glass doll; she was nothing like herself. The blue light wavered gently before reestablishing itself. The darkness of the small room permeated the secluded meeting between a man and his wife. _

_"I love you."_

_"Yes, Jon. I know."_

_The silence stretched almost painfully into the small space. "Promise me, Thayet, you will not let anything happen to the kids. If something happens to me I want to know-"_

_"They will be fine. I've made arrangements, should something happen." The air was heavy as the king bowed his head once more. It was an unspoken acknowledgement that should death visit, neither would part. Love was a mysterious thing to the king and his beautiful queen, but it made them part of each other. Theirs was a love that could not be severed. Where one went, the other would follow. Death was not such a far place when one's love was resting there. _

_Raucous shouts rang suddenly from the quiet night. The sound of steel and arrows ripped through the air. The king's face became hard and unmoving. He was a warrior now. He was the protector of the people, and he would not let them down. "It seems I have been called. Stay safe, love." And he was gone. _

_The lonely sigh was barely audible as the blue glow faded and disappeared. It was the sound of one half of a heart staring death in the face. It was an empty, pointless sound._

Numair rocked back into awareness as the fragile image of the king in battle confessing to his queen merged once more into the night. It was comforting to know that he was not the only one willing to bend to the iron hand of love and loss. The night fell in thin sheets about him as he thought back to the tender sigh of the queen's as she departed to face her nightly terrors once more. Unwittingly, a sigh of his own slid through weary lips.

* * *

"The wheels are turning again," murmured an introspective emperor. His fingers steepled beneath his jaw, he stared into gold eyes of Shakith. "The times are shifting and changing beneath me, and I am powerless to stop it." His breath came in a slow, cold rhythm almost matching the speed of the marble encasing him. "Damn it, I need those scrolls! I need the power! I need, oh gods, I need control! Why can I not hold onto my people and those about them?" His poisonous eyes burned in the silver grey light. "Is it wrong of me to wish to hold onto my people? Why do they call me a monster because I wish to keep them? Was it not I who brought them into their safety after the turmoil of my father's death? I am their hero, their savior. I am like a god to them." It was then an unnatural thought came to his mind. It had come to his attention before, but never as forcefully as this. If he was so important and powerful to his people, what was stopping him from becoming a god to them? Had he not said that he was worshipped by them in their gratitude? He was almost a god on earth as it was; he was an emperor. 

Mortals were not meant to challenge the gods. They were weak and rash in the eyes of the gods. Mortals were fools clutching selfishly at dreams scattered fickly by the hands of the gods themselves. This idea of Ozorne's was neither new nor creative. He knew it was so, but he also knew it had never been accomplished. There is always a first for everything. Slowly, maliciously, he turned his thoughts to Arram, the boy mage who never thought he could. There he could see power. There he could see death.

* * *

Clouds drifted slowly on a dark horizon. Blood red gashes yawned horrifically in the purple black of early dark. A body twisted beneath the scarlet sheen of the stormy sky. Long arms stretched grotesquely to the sky twisted in black agony. Arram's flesh stretched and shone with the sweat of fear. Every nerve seemed to flame; every bone seemed to snap with unbearable strain. The sudden cold wind made his skin sting as each bead of sweat froze into tiny pearls. 

A voice like thunder and crumbling earth ripped through his agonized body. "You know why you are here." The winds howled and the earth beneath him trembled, "You are nothing to me," the voice deliberated slowly, "but you mean something to someone. Therefore, I have come to you for this purpose alone." The sky split with a tormented scream as the gold figure stepped idly from his throne of black. His feet touched the ground with a breath taking crash of thunder. His eyes were hidden behind his helmet of gold, and his black hands stretched ominously toward Arram's prone and defenseless body.

Arram did not cower. His mind could not register the gold specter moving inexorably nearer to him. There was no fear in his heart. The pain in his limbs flared in the presence of the shining monolith. The raging pain shifted into roaring crescendo as the burning light slowly neared and consumed him. Every muscle, sinew, and tendon moaned with the touch of this shadow, but Arram was not afraid. The pain dulled slowly from the sharp, white hot knives into iron bars pressing unfalteringly down, down, down. His mind shut down; his heart exploded into thousands of tiny pieces.

Some people could say that the eminent destruction of one's heart is the end of living. Perhaps it is. A person has a choice they never before could understand or accept. Now, they must face the decision, the idea of a new life as another, with open eyes. As their blood grows cold, they must decide. Do they choose to become something they have never considered in the face of their destruction? One's life is a difficult thing to forsake. It is something even more difficult to construct.

"You say nothing for yourself?" boomed the giant voice from the clouds. "I would have thought differently. Perhaps you have been misjudged." Slowly the wind abated. The tingling bite at his fingers ceased and he could feel the air brush across his cheek in perfect rhythm with the breath of the golden god. After all, the golden warrior must be a god to bring the heavens so low as to bend to the control of another.

"Speak, boy, or I shall do so for you. You have life in your veins yet. Destiny clutches at you but only ever grasps your shadow. This is my offer to you; you will be one of ours. We will watch you, grace you, but never will we leave you. You will honor us. You will accept us, and we will open gateways to you that you could never have seen without us. What say you?"

Arram shook as the pain slid away from his body. That sharp fire just beneath his skin seemed to be a lifeline to reality; without it, he felt exposed and lost. He trembled once, but whether it was in fear or cold, neither form knew. Arram was a unique person the god had never before attempted to, nor wished to, unravel. However, Shakith had foreseen a greatness to him that was as of yet undiscovered. It would be best to bring him to the rest of his siblings now when he was still young and naïve.

"Who are you?" Arram's voice ground out the few words. They caught at his teeth like gravel and clutched at his throat with tiny claws. Anger pulsated through his veins, but it kept the thought of fear away.

Annoyance and respect flashed simultaneously through the black eyes of the god as he drew himself to a towering height. His head brushed against the clouds and his voice rained down like thunder. "You dare question me? I am Master of the Sun, Hurler of Spears. War calls my name and all life bows to me. I am Mithros, Lord of the Gods."

Arram trembled for a moment, but regained control. He may be standing before Mithros, but he this was not his judgment day. Slowly, he rose to his full stature, which was severely smaller than the golden god's bulk. "I am not afraid."

"Then perhaps you are disrespectful." The sharp words were not a question. The god did not wish an answer to them. "Well, what say you to my proposition? Do you choose fealty to us in exchange for protection, or weakness before those feebler than you?"

Arram could feel his eyes begin to sting. The weight of the choice dug into his flesh and he swayed softly to every harsh breeze. His mind was in agony, but there really was no alternative, was there? He had to throw his lot of life in with the gods, did he not? After all, a person could not shun their lords and protectors. He made his choice. But, did he make it simply because he was offered it by the king god? If he looked deep inside himself and analyzed his feelings and thoughts as he was sure to do soon, he would see that he was wrong. Finally, his pride and power were seeping through his skin. He was finally becoming the person he was meant to be; a more powerful man than the world could ever expect of him. Arram was assuming his identity. "I accept, my Lord Mithros."

"Good."

The heavens split with an ear-shattering crash and rain spilled from the sky as if the universe was weeping. Arram tilted his head to see the clouds twisted with an unnatural anguish. Light caught and shone within the palm of the war-god as he came level to Arram. "You will be marked as one of ours; unique in every way," intoned the god as he pressed his burning fingers into Arram's chest. Arram felt his ribs collapse with that touch. His blood froze and boiled in the same moment, and his eyes saw only darkness lanced with feverish light.

Arram awoke cold and shivering. As terrified as he was, he did not fear. Something new had begun. The cold, silver light of early morning filtered over his eyes and lay against his chest. He remembered the dark sky laced with blood and the god that looked him in the eyes. He remembered the searing pain and the consuming darkness. He remembered the burning. Arram sat up in bed and slammed his back against the headboard. His chest was heaving and his eyes were wide. He remembered the choice. With a shrug of his shoulders, he heaved his bed-shirt off his shoulders and looked at his flesh. There, staring at him, were pink, agitated lines twining over his flesh at the exact spot where he was touched. A sun crossed with a spear and shield was burned permanently into his flesh. The air suddenly felt so cold, as if the memory was sent to haunt him. Suddenly, the mark flared with a white-gold light. Before his eyes, the lines seeped into his skin and melted into thin, white traces unrecognizable unless one knew where to look. Arram let his head ease into the curve of his palms as he took a deep breath. Everything had changed.

* * *

Sorry, I know this one is more confusing than usual, and I am not at all happy with it. I will update as soon as I can, I promise. School is killing me, and writer's block is a common and cursed pestilence in my house. Don't you just hate it when you suddenly contract writer's block in the middle of a sentence? 


	18. Scars: I

Due to the apparent dedication of some of my reviewers I have decided to update this next chapter into two parts. So that's why this chapter is so short.

**Tortalls WILD GIRL - **I would have written the rest of this chapter, but that would mean everybody would have to wait until probably next week. I'm going out of town this weekend, so I just broke this chapter in half. Hope that's good enough!

**Narm's Boreas - **See, I knew I was sick! The point of my last reply was to say that I am kind of taking the Roman/Greek version of religion for this story, but I apparently forgot. I'm pretending that the Black God's Realm is like their afterlife what with the Elysion Fields and the other place I can't think of right now for some reason. Sorry about that!

* * *

Arram slid out of bed. Even the light dancing across his bed-sheets felt different. It burned with a contained fire he had never before been able to sense. Slowly, he rocked onto his heels and locked his knees. He placed his hands flush with the rough, ink-stained surface of his desk. His head was pounding; black clouds swam across his vision and red wheals of flame curled through his mind. Tiny sparks of white light flickered and flared in the prevailing darkness, and with a sudden desperation, he threw himself into the darkness.

An odd sense of detachment slipped through his flesh as his consciousness slipped away into the somehow familiar black softness. Eerie shades of silver and copper and bronze dominated his world. It was something he knew but, strangely, had never felt. He turned slowly like a ponderous ship heading haltingly into unknown waters. He felt – distant. The breath left Arram in a whirlwind as he saw himself hunched, trembling over his work-worn desk with his dark hair falling in a veil over closed eyes. He was thrown back to reality where shapes were defined in shades that do not burn at the sight of himself.

He staggered away from the rough wood as though it had burned him. He was cold all over; his muscles ached from a strain he could not remember. Unconsciously, one long finger traced over the phantom like lines imprinted on his chest. When he analyzed the experience, it was not wholly unnatural. The feeling of detachment, of order was one he knew well. Meditation brought the same feeling as he slid into the cold grasp of his own mind. Therefore, it was not illogical to conclude that he had somehow slipped into meditation, but never before had he been capable of removing his consciousness from his corporeal body. It was disconcerting to say the least. Softly, the brand on his flesh warmed and flamed as his hand moved unknowingly into a different pattern.

He relaxed slowly as his thoughts swam into new and uncharted circles. Delicate lines swam and wavered before his eyes. Entranced, he watched as they slowly shifted into silver and bronze. The harsh lines of reality blurred into blinding metals. Against his better judgment, he relaxed. He let the sharp lights penetrate his body and mind; he let them sear into his soul and pierce through his spirit. Without knowing, Arram encompassed his magic. All the power the world could offer him seeped into channels previously dry and barren. Black waves dappled with tempting light flooded into him from all corners of the universe. This was the moment of truth. He would never be the same again.

This time, Arram gently slid from the world of silver and bronze back into his own body of flesh and blood. The world swam for a moment and his knees buckled. With all his weight pressed against one solitary wall of the quiet room, he inhaled sharply. His thoughts ran in a whirlwind he could not control until, the quiet rap of small knuckles against his thick door drew him back to attention. He knew that gentle, demanding tap. "Come in, Varice," he called, but his voice cracked unnaturally.

The golden figure danced into the still and silent room bringing with her light and sound. The shadows danced away from her and the air twined happily about her form. Arram looked upon her with a strange sadness. As much as he loved her, he could not hold onto her. Something had changed and this golden icon structured of light was no longer the representation of love and happiness she had once been.

His features softened as he looked at her smile formed of the whitest sun rays. Her eyes, the color of the spring sky, danced cheerfully, but then darkened with concern. "Arram, are you alright? Why are you over there, almost on the floor?"

He could see the white hot worry flashing in her gaze. "Nothing, love, it's nothing. I just, I think I had a dream. It, it was something new and strange. Love, I think it changed me." Confusion creased his brow and his hand began to move to the bridge of his nose.

Varice knew better than to let him begin to pull the bridge of his nose; if he began, a lecture of theories and probabilities laced with facts and history no mortal was capable of paying attention to. "Arram, sweet, come here. We can go to the gardens today, or out to the park for a picnic. We have not had time to ourselves in such a long time," she smiled enchantingly.

"No, Varice," he muttered. His dark eyes flashed in confusion, and he looked into her eyes. Never before had he refused her while looking into her eyes. "Something has happened that I must investigate. I believe I have learned something new without ever realizing." He lurched to his feet in a strangely graceful, awkward movement. "I must go," he concluded as he shrugged off his wrinkled bed-clothes and into a more presentable outfit. He bent and kissed Varice's cheek as he left, but he did look back. Nor did he offer to bring her with him.

* * *

As the sunlight began to burn gold, the young emperor leaned against his balcony ledge. A strange chill prickled along his flesh, but he ignored it. He was far more interested in the activities happening beneath him in the royal menagerie. Someday, he thought absently as he looked upon the small cages, he would have to improve the grandness of his menagerie; it was far too small and empty, almost derelict in its existence. Ozorne turned his attention once more to the dark shape standing openly in a pool of light before an empty cage. The tall figure seemed to waver a moment before black light littered with tiny white stars flashed from his form.

So, Arram Draper had finally realized his potential. Ozorne's lip curled away from his teeth in a gruesome sneer. There would be no controlling the blossoming mage now that he knew he was worth something. Hatred grew in the cold heart of the emperor as he looked upon his closest, dearest friend. This was a hatred only born of love. After all, one cannot truly hate those they have never once been a part of. Love is the most powerful doorway into the minds and hearts of people; whether the door opens for good or bad, no one can tell.

Ozorne watched as Arram bent and leaned against the cold iron bars of the desolate cage. One hand rested against his face, the other faced him. It seemed as though he was attempting to memorize every contour of his hand, as though this appendage was not his own. Suddenly, black fire spread around his hand and true fire sprang from the earth before his feet, but disappeared at a thought leaving not a single burn in its wake. Control like this was not mastered over night! It was impossible! And Ozorne hated him for it. Every move made by his friend enraged him. It forced him to see the power coiled in the heart of his soft and once malleable friend. Only a fool would not notice the change in Arram's demeanor. It flashed in the turn of a hand; burned in the blink of an eye. Arram was no longer himself.

Ozorne threw himself from the white curve supporting his weight as he observed his friend's transformation. Anger cloaked him as he spun into the relative darkness of his chambers. So, Arram thought he could leave him, did he? Thought he could become independent and great? Thought he would mean something to someone? This was that girl's fault. That stranger Arram had taken into his heart but not his bed. She had done something and destroyed his friend. Perhaps it was time to pay her a visit before she rotted in his unyielding dungeons.

The air whistled indignantly at his hurried passage. He was disturbing the peace, the solitude of these desolate halls. He was a trespasser in his own home. Quickly the silence oozed once more into its customary place and swallowed up all evidence of his existence. Only his ringing footsteps stood as a testament of his passage.

The darkness swam away from his hand as he brushed it away as though it was nothing more than old spider's webs. The cold wall buckled beneath his emerald touch and its brutal truth blared in the hard, green light cupped in his other hand. Prison bars grinned manically up at the young emperor, and he wrapped manicured hands around the cold bars. They slid away from their cold moors as he pushed them aside; his prize lay behind them, encased behind yet another door. This impediment slid away too, and he looked upon the small figure curled at the foot of the dilapidated mattress.

* * *

As I said, this is just part one. I will update as soon as possible! 


End file.
